


burn bright

by rire



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Angst, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Fluff, Happy Ending, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, and the cuddling. there is lots of cuddling, come for the sex and stay for the character development, lance is also a prostitute and is keith's roommate, pidge hunk and allura are shiro's uni buddies, shiro's 27 and keith's 21, shiro's an ex-military
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 01:24:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 32,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12002013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rire/pseuds/rire
Summary: It wasn’t as bad as it seemed. It wasn’t like Keith deflowered an upstanding citizen and seduced him into sin. There was no downside to the transaction. Shiro got his pleasure and Keith got to pay the bills.So the fact that he had broken the law was the least of his worries, really. A more pressing concern was the fact that he could smell Keith every time he lay down to sleep, could remember the sounds uttered into the darkness in the heat of passion, the warmth of Keith’s lips pressed to his skin. And the fact that he didn’t feel the need to change the sheets, like a futile attempt to hold on to something that had already slipped between his fingers.In which a college professor and an orphan prostitute get more than they bargained for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to Damare for being my partner for the Sheith Big Bang! You can find their gorgeous artwork [here](https://twitter.com/damaredraws/status/905291987871518720). Thank you to Sam for being my amazing beta on such short notice. And a shout out to my friends Miho, for being supportive throughout the writing process, and Nami, who helped inspire the ending to become what it is. <3
> 
> I've never posted so many months' worth of writing in one day before - it's slightly terrifying and I kind of feel like I'm sending a kid off to college? Anyway, even though you have this entire fic all at once, feel free to pause and leave comments throughout the chapters. Feedback is always much appreciated!

The hour before dawn was subdued and silent, the sky dim with the soft beginnings of light. The drab grey of foreign buildings boxed him in. One or two solitary men scuffled along the empty streets, looking down or straight ahead. Shiro looked around, then looked back down at his phone for the tenth time. Dead, still. He didn’t know why he bothered, as the battery had been dead for hours. He shouldn’t have expected it to magically light up. He let out a short sigh. The conference itself hadn’t been so bad, but his flight back had been delayed, and too sleep-deprived to think, he’d taken the wrong bus home. Now he was stranded on the wrong side of town with no idea how to get back. Luckily, he hadn’t been robbed yet. His first objective would be to find a payphone before that happened and call Allura to pick him up. She’d be pissed, but it would be better than walking home.

Clutching his duffel bag, he walked down the street and turned a corner, scanning his surroundings for a payphone. What his eyes landed on instead was a slender, black-haired boy standing on the street corner, arms crossed. Backlit by the dim streetlight, tiny dust particles floating aimlessly around him, he was beautiful in an almost ethereal way. A fire in his eyes, a faint dust of pink across his cheeks. His sharp jaw jutted out in defiance, his lips moving in shapes Shiro was too far away to comprehend. Shiro almost didn’t notice the middle-aged man he was talking to, like a stain on a canvas. He walked closer and began to catch on to what the conversation was about.

“Come on, babe,” the man said, reaching out with a wad of cash in hand, only to have his hand slapped away. Shiro could hear the  _ smack  _ even from this distance. The boy was angry.

“I told you, I don’t work after hours.” Shiro wasn’t sure what it was— his pleasantly husky voice, or the heat in his words— that sent chills through him. “It doesn’t matter how much you pay me. If you want to fuck somebody so bad, go fuck yourself.”

The realization nearly made Shiro stumble.  _ Oh,  _ he thought to himself, mind slowly wrapping around the concept.  _ He’s a prostitute. _

The stranger’s nose wrinkled with disdain. “Don’t get high and mighty with me, you wh—”

“Hey.”

Shiro’s voice cut through the street. The two of them turned to look at him. Before he could think better of it, Shiro threw an arm around the boy’s shoulder and held him close. “Leave my boyfriend alone,” he said simply. As soon as he said it he felt ridiculous. That definitely didn’t sound intimidating enough. He probably should have said leave my  _ fucking  _ boyfriend alone, that would have added to the effect. A little belatedly, he narrowed his eyes in what he hoped was a scary look.

There was another problem: he hadn’t acquired permission for this little charade of close contact. Half expecting the boy he had his arm around to push him away and kick him in the balls, Shiro’s human palm began to sweat. But the boy caught on quickly. Sweetly, docilely, he slid his arm under Shiro’s, hooking them together and leaning casually on Shiro. The body heat radiating against his side was still not as hot as Shiro’s face felt. He hoped the stranger couldn’t tell in the dark. The boy tilted his head up and spoke to Shiro in a voice as viscous as honey. “I told him to leave, baby. He wouldn’t listen.”

Those acting skills certainly made up for Shiro’s own lack thereof. Shiro supposed he should also be glad for his rather intimidating build— he could see the stranger’s eyes widen as it began to register in his mind that Shiro was capable of kicking his ass in an alley and leaving him there to die. The jagged scar across his nose probably only added to that image. The stranger cursed contemptuously under his breath and scurried off. 

As soon as the man was out of sight, the boy withdrew his arm as if Shiro had burned him. He whirled on Shiro, brows furrowed. “The hell did you do that for?”

Okay, so Shiro was  _ not  _ prepared for how quickly this guy’s personality could do a complete 180. Though it seemed he was back to his original self, Shiro wasn’t used to having that anger directed at him. “I—”

“You think you can get a discount by playing nice? Think again. I told you, it’s after hours, and I don’t make exceptions. Besides, with a body like yours I’m sure you have no problem getting people to fuck you for free.”

Shiro flushed at his last casual remark, completely contradictory to the attitude with which he delivered the words. “I didn’t do it because of that!”

“Oh, so you’re one of those people with a hero complex who sees a poor victimized prostitute on a street corner and swoops in to the rescue?” The boy crossed his arms. “I don’t need saving.”

Evidently the source of his frustration was his own bottled-up feelings and not Shiro himself. Shiro could empathize with that. He didn’t know the first thing about being a prostitute, but he at least knew that it was a profession most people looked down on. “That’s not what I meant to do,” Shiro explained. “I’ve worked customer service jobs, I know how tough it is when customers come in right when the store is closing. He looked like he was making you uncomfortable, so I wanted to help. I’m sorry if it came off as patronizing.”

His words seemed to strike something inside of the boy, who raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Customer service,” he said dryly. But his eyes held none of their earlier fire. Instead, they were almost soft as he studied Shiro’s face for a long moment in which neither of them spoke. What broke the silence was the voice of somebody else entirely. 

“Keith,” the voice called out, and the black-haired boy (Keith?) turned towards the source of the sound. A tall, lanky, brown-skinned boy jogged over. “You ready to go?” He paused when he saw Shiro. “Oh, a client? Sorry.”

“No, he’s not. I told you not to meet here, Lance,” Keith grumbled. “Yeah, let’s go.” Without sparing another look at Shiro, Keith headed off. After fixing Shiro with a puzzled glance, Lance turned away and the two of them headed down the street. Shiro watched them leave, a curious new feeling bubbling up inside him.

Five minutes later he remembered that he needed to call Allura.


	2. Chapter 2

Keith.

The name ran through his mind like a bubbling stream, constant shimmering background noise amid his daily activities. He’d be grading papers, halfway through the stack, and a pair of blue-purple eyes would surface in his mind. He’d be buried in a blanket burrito watching Netflix, and his mind would wander to the warmth of a body pressed close to his. It was kind of sad, really. He justified it by thinking that he hadn’t had much close human contact lately. Shoulder touches from Allura. The occasional hug from Hunk and Pidge. Nothing romantic. He didn’t get out much anymore, hadn’t so much as held hands with anybody in years. Nothing quite like a pretty young stranger sidling up to him, sweetly masquerading as his lover.

Keith was young, no doubt about that. Probably nineteen or twenty, no older than twenty-one. And he was a real looker. Shiro couldn’t help but wonder what had led Keith to his current profession. He wondered what his relationship was with that other boy, Lance. And he wondered if he was going crazy.

It wasn’t like he had no options. His students hit on him left and right, though as an educator it would be very unprofessional to respond to those advances. A few of his colleagues seemed interested as well, but he just wasn’t comfortable with putting himself out there quite yet. He’d rather throw himself into his research and his teaching than think about the other issues plaguing him. So he came to know his left hand very intimately. And recently his right, the prosthetic, which, though he usually avoided looking at and thinking about it, he recently found out had a handy (ha) vibration function.

It must be that, then. A general lack of getting laid. That was why his mind was hyperfocusing on a complete stranger he’d interacted with for no more than ten minutes. Still, it wasn’t like he wanted to… sleep with Keith, not exactly. It was a vague, clouding, general sort of interest. A magnetic pull that defied explanation.

That was how, several days later, he ended up back on the same street where he first met Keith. He told himself it was just to make sure that nobody else bothered Keith when he was off work. Though he knew that Keith probably wouldn’t hang around on the street after work anymore, having had that encounter. He also knew that he was nobody in Keith’s life and that it was irrational to want to look out for him. Keith would not appreciate the sentiment, anyway.

By the time he realized he had no reason to come he’d already gotten off the bus. Sure enough, Keith was standing there, leaning back against the streetlight, arms crossed and one foot propped up against the streetlight so that his knee was jutting out. The other boy, Lance, stood casually a few feet away from Keith. The two of them appeared to be bickering about something, Lance flailing his arms comically and Keith raising an eyebrow, unimpressed. This ended in laughter, Keith hunching his shoulders and scrunching his eyes closed. A car pulled up to the curb, and the two of them appeared to recognize it, expressions sobering up. Lance gave Keith a half-wave and hopped in. Shiro could only infer that the two of them shared the same profession.

Nobody else showed up for a couple of minutes. Shiro’s job as self-appointed bodyguard appeared to have been pointless, which of course he had known all along, so now his attention shifted to a simpler albeit less noble one— aesthetic appreciation. Keith was just as stunning as he had been on the first day. The sharp curve of his eyebrows framing his determined eyes. A head of black hair Shiro wanted to run his hands through. A pink tongue that darted out to wet his lips. Then Shiro’s eyes were drawn downwards as Keith stretched, the cut hem of his crop top riding up to reveal a patch of skin that gleamed in the murky light.

A thought occurred to Shiro, and immediately after, he wondered why he hadn’t thought about it before. This was the solution to his problems, a path to the intimacy he sought. If he paid Keith, he wouldn’t have to deal with any questions or strange looks at the scars on his body, the marred stump where flesh met robotic arm. And it would be much easier to climb the insurmountable mountain of self-consciousness if his partner didn’t make a big deal of it. He didn’t doubt that Keith would be very professional about it. Besides, he had the money, having been reimbursed after his military services as well as having a steady source of income. The only thing he had to get over now was himself. Nobody else was nearby. This was his chance. He allowed himself a few more moments to compose himself. In those few moments, Keith called out to him.

“You going to stand there all day?”

Shiro blushed. He had no choice but to come out now. “You’re very perceptive,” he said, walking towards Keith.

“It’s hard not to notice somebody standing on the street corner watching me like a creep.”

“I’m sorry,” Shiro said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I wanted to approach you, but couldn’t find the right time.”

“Shy?” Keith cracked a smile. “Don’t worry, you’ve just got to give me the money and I’ll take the lead from there.”

“That’s not—” Shiro broke off, realizing he didn’t have an excuse this time. “Okay, you’re right. I’d like to pay for your services.”

There was a mischievous glint in Keith’s eyes as his lip curled upwards. “Now we’re talking. See, the world would be a much better place if good guys like you stopped pretending to be good.” 

Distracted by the close-up view of Keith’s pink lips and fluttering eyelashes, Shiro forgot to react until he realized Keith was watching him. He adjusted his tie, for lack of anything better to do. “I haven’t done this before. Should I pay you up front? How much?”

Keith glanced for a fraction of a second at the flash of metal peeking out from under the glove he always wore over his prosthetic. Shiro’s ears began to burn, but then Keith’s eyes diverted to the gold watch on Shiro’s left wrist. “Nothing you can’t afford, judging by the way you’re dressed.” He smiled. “You can pay me after. I’ve been bored lately, so if you’re good at it I’ll give you a discount. Positive reinforcement.”

He talked smart. This was a pleasant revelation. “I thought you didn’t do discounts.”

“I guess you’re lucky you’re my type. Come on.” He hooked his arm easily around Shiro’s, in the same manner as before, and hailed a cab.

The next thing Shiro knew they were at his place. Keith walked through the front door, sparing a couple quick glances around the place. There was nothing special, really. It was rather large and spacious. Beige walls, minimalistically furnished, a few framed photos of his family and friends here and there. They quickly bypassed his living room and entered his bedroom. 

It still didn’t quite feel real. Maybe because of this, his body was tingling with a refreshing sense of adventure. If it wasn’t real, he might as well do what he wanted. Or who he wanted. Keith was here, all warm body heat and coy smiles, sitting on his bed with one leg tucked under the other. He reached out and fingered the fabric of Shiro’s necktie nonchalantly.

“So what do I call you?”

Shiro blinked. “What?”

“Your name,” Keith said. “You know, when I’m at the peak of pleasure and coming all over your expensive sheets. Or would you prefer  _ sir? Daddy? _ ”

Shiro was positive his face had never been redder than it was at this moment. He didn’t realize that he hadn’t introduced himself. “Shiro,” he said, ignoring the voice in the back of his mind that said he wouldn’t at all mind being called either of those other things.

“Shiro,” Keith echoed, and Shiro couldn’t fathom how Keith could make his name sound so innocently filthy. “I like that. What can I do for you tonight, Shiro?”

Shiro had a pretty good idea of what he wanted to do to Keith, which was fuck him. Just one look at him had cemented that resolve. Despite the pervading knowledge that this was a business transaction, the romantic in him wanted to take it slow, the way he used to when he slept with somebody. “Let’s start with this.” 

He leaned in, cupped the back of Keith’s neck with his human hand, and pressed his lips to Keith’s. Slow, experimental. Keith’s lips were soft, if a little chapped. The kiss was mint gum and cheap cologne and something distinctively Keith. For a moment he stilled in surprise, but when Shiro nudged at Keith’s lower lip with his tongue Keith caught on quickly and turned the kiss on its hinges, transforming it into something else entirely. 

The way Keith moved his mouth against Shiro’s own could only be described as insistent, passionate, almost hungry. He tugged hard on Shiro’s shirt, tilting him forward and falling back so that Shiro was pinning him down on the bed. Their mouths still interlocked, he then hooked his arms over the back of Shiro’s neck, bringing him closer with a moan. Shiro responded just as eagerly, partly just to show Keith he could keep up, and partly because Keith had that effect on him— something hot was beginning to burn under his skin. The fabric of his shirt suddenly felt like a cage. He pulled away and Keith actually whined, lifting up off the bed to follow Shiro’s movement until he realized Shiro was unbuttoning his shirt, at which point he was more than happy to help. 

Once they had gotten the troublesome fabric off, Shiro moved with the intent of taking off Keith’s clothing and not letting him dwell on the scars, but Keith’s pupils had blown wide as he raked his gaze up and down Shiro’s body. “Jesus,” he said, almost slurred, running his hands over the planes of Shiro’s chest in disbelief. Shiro blushed, the enthusiastic response hitting him out of left field. Either Keith was a good actor, or Shiro got lucky and somehow managed to appeal to Keith’s very specific type. Immediately Keith reached down and palmed Shiro’s cock through his pants, making Shiro bite down on his lip to hold back noise.

“I need to suck your dick like, right now,” was all that Keith said before he dove down face first, popped the button and tugged down the zipper with his teeth, pulling his boxers down. In the seconds that Keith took to admire his cock, Shiro felt equal parts exposed and flattered, and then Keith flicked his tongue across Shiro’s slit and Shiro gasped, toes curling. Keith shot him a small smile before wrapping his lips around the head of Shiro’s cock and sucking, swirling his tongue around, teasing the slit. With his other hand he cupped Shiro’s balls and stroked them with his thumb. He would take in a little more of Shiro’s cock and then pull out again, suckling on the head teasingly and making obscenely lewd, wet noises that sounded like he was having the time of his life. The heat pooling at the pit of Shiro’s stomach grew almost unbearable.

Eventually Keith seemed to take pity on him and set his eyes with resolve. Slowly, he hollowed out his cheeks and took Shiro all the way in until the tip of his nose was buried in the hairs at the base of Shiro’s cock. He looked up at Shiro with half-lidded eyes and  _ moaned  _ like this was the greatest moment of his life. Shiro groaned, too, head swimming with dizzying pleasure at the feeling of Keith moaning around him. His hips gave an involuntary twitch that Keith didn’t miss. 

Keith took Shiro’s metal hand in his own and brought it up to his hair, eyes full of intent. He pulled off, and said, “You can fuck my mouth.”

Somehow Shiro couldn’t shake the thought that he had purposely taken Shiro’s metal hand, as if to prove something he couldn’t have known needed proving. But Shiro wasn’t in the right state of mind to be thinking about that or thinking at all, because Keith took him in his mouth again, and Shiro couldn’t resist jerking his hips up. Keith groaned around him like he was hungry for it, and Shiro thrust up again and again, losing his rhythm to the pleasure, the hot, wet heat of Keith’s mouth. He was going to come undone sooner than he planned, and so he forced himself to let go of Keith’s hair, tapping Keith on the shoulder to get him to pull off.

Keith let out a questioning noise with Shiro’s dick still in his mouth and the sound turned filthy as he pulled off with a  _ pop _ . Shiro clutched the sheets with his free hand, clutching on to his composure. “I want to fuck you,” he said, voice gravelly but somehow sounding more authoritative than he felt. He could see Keith react, eyes darkening, swiping a tongue over his swollen lips. 

“We always seem to want the same thing,” Keith said, voice hoarse and raw in a way that made Shiro’s dick twitch painfully. “You got lube? Condoms?”

Shiro jerked his head in the general direction. “Bedside drawer.”

Keith moved over, rummaged through the drawer, and returned with a bottle of lube in one hand and the condom wrapper between his teeth. He tore it open with his teeth, then rolled the condom onto Shiro’s cock. Then he sat up, wiggling his butt in a way that was somehow both cute and erotic, and made a very lewd fingering gesture. “You want to do it or should I?”

“I’d like to,” Shiro almost panted, already so tense with anticipation. He tugged Keith’s pants and boxers off, Keith lifting his hips helpfully. Shiro grabbed the lube, then stopped. He’d grabbed it with his left, but that would mean pouring it onto his right. Keith had put it in his hair but having a metal hand up your ass was a different thing altogether.

“Either one I’m fine with,” said Keith, and Shiro had to wonder if he was easy to read or if Keith was just good at reading people. “I’ve never had a metal hand inside my asshole but I’m willing to try.”

“Okay,” said Shiro, lubing up his metal fingers and tracing Keith’s entrance with the tip of his index finger. 

“Ah,” Keith gasped. “It’s cold.”

“Sorry.”

“Feels good though, keep going.” 

Shiro kept going. Keith was eyeing his arm. So he said, by way of explanation: “I was in the military.”

Squirming around his finger, Keith said, “Thank you for your service.”

Shiro bit back a laugh. He curled his finger and watched Keith’s hips shift, lithe muscle rippling beneath his skin, mouth hanging half open. He looked unguarded in that moment, somehow. “Mm,” he sighed, having gotten used to the feeling. “Want more.”

Shiro slipped in another, slowly. Too slowly, perhaps. Keith shifted his hips, taking Shiro’s fingers in, and groaned. “Fuck, yeah.”

Picking up the pace, Shiro allowed himself to take everything in fully. It felt, only now, real. He was really sleeping with a prostitute. He never thought his life would come to this— and he was hit with the urge to laugh dryly, but did not. Because something about Keith felt natural, because this whole situation felt like things falling into place. He thrust in a third finger and Keith gasped, head tilting back to expose a pale column of neck that Shiro was overcome with the urge to kiss. Shiro shifted forward, hovering just above. 

“Can I leave marks,” he asked and then his gaze trailed away, slightly embarrassed.

“‘S long as it fades by tomorrow.”

Shiro pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Keith’s neck. He could feel Keith’s pulse, steady and alive, jumping beneath the skin, and sucked lightly, savouring the sweet taste of sweat, and the sweeter staccato noise of surprise that escaped from Keith’s mouth. He did it again and again, curling his fingers inside Keith, pushing deeper, and when he found Keith’s prostate Keith’s back arched and he let out a breathless moan that made something scorch within Shiro, something he hadn’t known was there. All else fell away so it seemed that the room was suddenly too small to contain Shiro’s desire.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said, and didn’t sound like himself. “You feel so good, I want to be inside you—” although he couldn’t feel all that well with his right hand but he trailed his left along the smooth plane of Keith’s stomach and the jut of his hip and found he liked the way it felt beneath his touch.

He was aware he was talking somewhat needlessly, and felt a little self-conscious at that. But the tips of Keith’s ears became splotched with pink, the first sign of being flustered that Shiro had seen from him. “Just get on with it then.”

Keith was still wearing a shirt. It was the only piece of clothing between them and it was suddenly imperative that it be removed. He pulled the shirt off over Keith’s head, messing up Keith’s hair in the process which only made Shiro want to kiss him even more. That he did, pressing his tongue intently into Keith’s mouth, sliding his hands up Keith’s chest, thumbs circling his pink nipples.

Keith’s back arched with a sharp moan. Shiro absentmindedly noted a light, jagged scar on his right shoulder, and felt less conscious of the ones scattered across his own skin. “Fuck me already,” Keith said, voice ragged with desperation. And yeah, Shiro couldn’t wait any longer either. 

He pushed in, and was overcome with a wave of pleasure he hadn’t felt in ages— so blinding he could barely hold himself still and nearly trembled with the effort to go slow.

Keith let out a shaky breath. “You can move, I’m not made of glass.” 

Shiro moved.

“Oh,” Keith moaned, mouth falling open, “God,  _ fuck,  _ you’re so big— feel so full.”

Shiro groaned at that and involuntarily thrust deeper, which made Keith moan and clutch the sheets tightly. Shiro muttered a hasty apology but couldn’t bring himself to slow down. The perfect tightness of Keith’s walls around him felt like the culmination of his life and he snapped his hips forward, driving himself deeper, breathing hard as Keith groaned, back lifting clean off the bed and wrapping shaky legs around Shiro. 

At this angle it was easier to hit Keith’s prostate, and that he did— Keith cried out, fingers grappling desperately against the sheets, face the perfect picture of pleasure.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Shiro breathed. “Taking it so well.”

Keith blushed, hard, letting out a desperate moan. Suddenly he had trouble looking right at Shiro. Something like pride sparked inside of Shiro, and he picked up his pace, gripping tightly onto Keith’s hips and thrusting hard until the pleasure crashed into him all at once, rendering him breathless as he spilled inside of Keith. 

He rode out his orgasm, panting hard at every high-pitched noise Keith made, thrusting deep until he hit Keith’s prostate again and Keith came with a shout all over his own stomach. Shiro, though rather exhausted, watched as if in a trance, embedding the moment in his memory.

He pulled out slowly, holding on to Keith’s hips to keep him steady as he was trembling slightly with the aftershocks. He took off the condom, tied it up and tossed it into the trash. Keith’s harsh, hurried breaths slowly died down to normal, his chest rising and falling slowly. 

“I’ll be right back,” said Shiro. “Let me get you cleaned up.”

Keith made a tired noise of assent, and Shiro left for the bathroom to grab a towel. When he returned Keith was sitting up and watching him, his expression an unreadable mixture of many things. Among them, though, seemed to be satisfaction. Or so Shiro hoped. Shiro himself was feeling rather pleased with how things had gone.

“Lay back for me,” Shiro said. Keith did as told, fixing Shiro’s gaze with an odd look in his eyes. Shiro studiously wiped up the cum on his stomach, and Keith let out a small whimper as Shiro began wiping gently at his crotch. When he was done he headed to the bathroom again, washed the towel, wrung it dry and hung it up.

When he returned, Keith was still watching him, subdued. Shiro ignored it. “Do you want to shower?”

“Uh,” said Keith. “It’s fine, I’m good. Thanks.”

“Alright. Do you mind if I sit?” Shiro asked.

Keith looked at him like he’d sprouted two heads. “It’s your bed,” said Keith. “We just had sex on it.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Shiro said, and sat down beside Keith, pulling the covers up over his legs. “I should go take a shower, I just want to rest for a bit first. I’m getting old, you see.”

“You don’t look that old,” said Keith.

“You’re right, I’m actually six.”

Keith raised an eyebrow.

Shiro realized belatedly that the inside joke told frequently by Hunk and the others fell flat with Keith, who didn’t know him personally. “It was a joke. I was born on a leap day. I’m twenty-seven.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “That’s not  _ old. _ ”

“I guess. I’m a college prof, and I mostly teach first and second years, which makes me  _ feel  _ old. How old are you?”

It was the first time he’d asked Keith anything about himself, and for a moment Shiro thought Keith would not answer. But he did. “Twenty.” So Shiro had been right on the dot. “Twenty-seven and a college prof? Are you sure you’re not pulling my leg?”

“I took a heavy course load so I could graduate early,” Shiro explained. “I was drafted in the military for a year after getting my Bachelor’s. I came back, went back to school, and got a job straight out of grad school.” A life story in three sentences, wrapped up and tied with a neat little bow. All the important things had been left out. 

Keith hummed. “You’re one of those workaholics. No wonder you’re not getting any. You can’t fuck anybody if you’re drowning in papers. But I guess you got money, so you can solicit prostitutes, ‘s pretty much the same thing.” The sex had made Keith more pliable, opened him up. He stretched, rather like a cat, making himself comfortable in Shiro’s bed.

“Speaking of money,” said Shiro, turning over on his side to face Keith. “How much for today?”

Keith shrugged. “A hundred bucks.”

Shiro shook his head. “No, no. That’s too cheap.”

“What? I’m giving you a discount here. Fine, a hundred fifty.”

“I can pay more than that.”

Keith laughed. There was a playful look in his eyes. “I’ve never had anybody haggle with me for a higher price. Okay. Two hundred and a place to stay for the night. This bed’s comfy.” He fingered the corner of the sheets. “What’s the thread count?”

“Three hundred at least,” Shiro said.

“No, the thread count.”

Shiro conceded, the fight over money evidently over. “I don’t know, eight hundred? Allura bought them for me as a housewarming gift.” He fished out his wallet and fumbled through it, handing over the two hundred to Keith.

Keith took the money with a nod of thanks. “Your girlfriend?” Shiro could hear, over the feigned disinterest, the real curiosity peeking out.

“No, just a friend.” He smiled and neglected to mention the ex-girlfriend part. That was long ago, after all. Might as well have been another lifetime. He’d love to travel back in time, tell university freshman Takashi Shirogane that years down the road he’d be in bed with a male prostitute, and see the look on his face.

“Mm,” Keith hummed noncommittally. He yawned.

“Alright,” said Shiro. “I’ll head to the shower now.” He got up and headed to the bathroom. “Good night, Keith,” he called over his shoulder with a smile.

The hint of a smile played at the edges of Keith’s mouth. After a beat of hesitation, he replied, “Good night.”

When Shiro got out of the shower Keith was asleep, covers not pulled up properly but bunched around his waist, chest rising and falling softly. Something tender and unfamiliar pressed at Shiro’s chest, demanding to make itself known. He crawled quietly under the covers and pulled them up to cover Keith’s shoulders, leaving ample space between himself and Keith so that the other man wouldn’t be too uncomfortable, but not enough space that Shiro couldn’t still feel his body heat coming in waves. It was comforting, and the tide of sleep lulled him in before he knew it. 

He hadn’t slept so well in months. 


	3. Chapter 3

He was faintly aware that he had done something illegal. The moment of realization passed with a shrug. The last time Shiro had done something illegal was probably smoking weed back in freshman year. Shiro didn’t particularly care about breaking the law. He had always abided by the rules because they adhered to his own moral standards. So it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. It wasn’t like Keith deflowered an upstanding citizen and seduced him into sin. There was no downside to the transaction. Shiro got his pleasure and Keith got to pay the bills. Keith wasn’t about to tell anybody anytime soon, and they had played it safe by coming to Shiro’s place to do the deed rather than a hotel that was in the public eye.

So the fact that he had broken the law was the least of his worries, really. A more pressing concern was the fact that he could smell Keith every time he lay down to sleep, could remember the sounds uttered into the darkness in the heat of passion. And the fact that he didn’t wash the sheets, like a futile attempt to hold on to something that had already slipped between his fingers. 

When the scent of Keith faded away he told himself it was time to move on. He threw himself headfirst, as he always did, into his work. When he wasn’t teaching he was grading papers, modifying the curriculum for the upcoming semester. It was what he liked best— molding minds, witnessing what his students had in store and fostering that. When he wasn’t doing that he was working on his research, which had taken a backseat to teaching but which he still needed to produce if he wanted to keep his job. The scratch of pen on paper, the familiarity of numbers and calculations was a comforting track for his thoughts. He got by just like that, and if just occasionally in the dead of the night he slipped a hand beneath the waistband of his boxers, a certain name escaping his lips in a sigh then there was nobody who knew that but himself. If a tree falls in the forest…

Two weeks or so later his pen paused in the middle of an equation as it occurred to him that he  _ could,  _ in fact, have Keith again. He lived a life of moderation, didn’t smoke, only drank when things got bad, took no drugs but prescription ones. But he wasn’t above a vice or two. If he could indulge without it getting in the way of his work, then who was he to prohibit himself?

That was how he found himself back on the street corner. 

Clad in a cropped leather jacket and tight ripped jeans, hair just a little mussed up, Keith looked like something the gods had sculpted right out of Shiro’s fantasies. He gave Shiro a look that held absolutely no surprise and read entirely as  _ what took you so long. _ “You could’ve called.”

“I don’t have your number?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “You ever check your contacts?”

Shiro fished his phone out of his pocket. Sure enough, there was a new number. Just ‘Keith,’ no last name, no picture. He looked at Keith, who shrugged. “Just trying to do business.”

They climbed into the backseat of a cab and traded kisses to the muffled rhythm of a Billboard Top 100 pop song in the background, kisses Keith sought but Shiro was too shy to deepen the way he really wanted to. 

The sense of familiarity was strange. This was, after all, only the third time the two of them had met. And yet, with Keith perched on the edge of his queen bed, déjà vu manifested itself briefly in his mind. He didn’t let it make him feel out of place, though. Instead, he channeled the familiarity into confidence.

“What do you like in bed?” he asked Keith.

“It’s not about me,” said Keith. “It’s about you.”

“I really would like to know,” said Shiro, smiling.

Keith scowled. “Okay really, you don’t have to do that. I hate when people do that. Act like they’re doing me a favour. Usually they end up not liking whatever I like and then I can’t get them to cum, so it’s a waste of my time and theirs. So just tell me, it’ll speed up the process.”

“I know what I want,” said Shiro. This elicited an intrigued smile from Keith. “I just think we would enjoy ourselves more if we both got what we wanted.”

“Okay, fine. You into kinky shit?”

“Define kinky.”

“I want to tie you up and ride you.”

“Deal,” said Shiro before Keith could even blink. “I’d hardly call that kinky.”

“Oh, that’s how it is with you,” said Keith, impressed. “Neither would I, just that you’d be surprised at how vanilla some people can get. If you got any other tricks up your sleeve, I’m all for it.”

“Let’s go with this for today,” said Shiro. 

“Alright,” said Keith, slipping back into his seductive voice. Shiro helped slide the leather jacket off his shoulders. Underneath, he wore a white cropped tank top. The pale skin of his shoulders glistened in the faint light of the bedside lamp. Shiro trailed a finger down his abdomen, into the dip of his belly button, down to the hem of his jeans, just admiring the smoothness. Keith was young, and beautiful, and Shiro had him right here. 

“Yeah, alright,” Keith chuckled, “touch me all you want to, ‘cause you won’t be able to in a second.” Shiro jolted a little as Keith leaned in and bit his earlobe. Swiftly, Keith pulled away and grabbed the undershirt that happened to be lying on the nightstand. “Arms up.”

Shiro held his arms up over his head, elbows bent slightly. Keith hovered above him, tying the shirt around his wrists. It was awkward only for a moment, in which he was suddenly aware of the faint sound of cars passing on the street down below. He watched the shadows of Keith’s limbs shift across the bedsheets.

“There you go,” Keith said, tilting his chin up with a finger. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Did anybody ever say that to Keith, he wondered? It was no use thinking about that, though. Keith didn’t give him time to think about anything. He was already peeling off his jeans, grabbing the lube from the drawer. Spreading his legs in the most casual, seductive way, tilting his head and batting his eyes at Shiro as he traced his entrance teasingly with a finger. Shiro’s pulse jumped, already wanting to touch.

“I don’t get to prep you?” Shiro asked innocently.

“No,” said Keith. “Tonight we’re playing by my rules, remember?” He dipped a finger in, curled it. His toes curled accordingly, and he let out a low, breathy groan. He thrust it a few more times, letting his head fall back. Every time Keith moved Shiro could hear the squelch of lube. Every time Shiro squirmed in his seat Keith smirked. 

Shiro spoke. It was either that or attempt to hump the fabric of his own pants. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Mm, yeah,” Keith said. “‘S not as good as you, though. Your fingers are bigger, go deeper.” Shiro bites hard on his lip as Keith adds a third. “You know what’s even better though? Your cock.” He punctuated his talking with a moan. “Feels so good inside me, so big, so full.” 

The amount of filth spilling from Keith’s pink lips made Shiro dizzy with arousal. “Keith,” he said powerlessly. 

“God, I want you inside me,” Keith said, moaning unabashedly, beginning to jerk himself off.

“Keith—”

Keith looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. “What?”

“I want to fuck you.”

“Really?” said Keith without much feeling. “Because I’m having a great time just jerking myself off thinking about you. I could do it, you know. You’re tied up. I could make you watch while I made myself cum, and I could leave you there and take all your cash.” Keith looked down pointedly at Shiro’s traitorous crotch. “I can’t believe that turns you on. You’re insane.”

“Can I fuck you now?”

“Okay, fine,” said Keith, rolling his eyes. “If you’re really that desperate.” He moved over and straddled Shiro, positioning himself so that the tip of Shiro’s cock grazed between his cheeks. Shiro cursed, tightening his fists. Keith sighed, nudging the head of Shiro’s cock to his hole. Shiro tried to lift his hips.

“Patience,” Keith said with a smirk, a condescending hand on Shiro’s shoulder. He sank down agonizingly slow, moaning softly as he adjusted to the feeling. He lifted himself up and then sank back down, a little bit at a time, as if he were a torture device specifically designed to push Shiro to the limit. A drop of sweat made its way down his forehead. He tugged involuntarily at the restraints. Keith grinded his hips, jaw lax, eyes half open. He knew what he was doing to Shiro. Shiro tugged harder— and then felt a rip as the fabric tore in half.

Keith’s jaw dropped open in shocked silence. His eyes were wide, a heated red creeping over his face. “Holy fuck,” he said. “That is so hot—”

Heart pounding in his ears, Shiro lifted Keith off and pinned him down on the bed, which gave a precarious creak. He lined himself up against Keith’s entrance again and thrust in, hard. Keith let out a strangled groan and threw his head back, wrapping his legs haphazardly around Shiro’s waist. Shiro held them there as he continued to jerk his hips forward, pounding into Keith. Keith reached down to jerk himself off, but he caught Keith’s wrists in midair and slammed them back down, gripping them above his head. His focus narrowed on the hot, wet sounds, the choked groans falling from Keith’s lips, the tight heat of Keith around him. It was a relief as much as it was a buildup of tension— all he could do was chase the pleasure until it was nearly blinding, coming inside of Keith with a choked shout. Moments later Keith came undone beneath him, just as much a perfect picture as he had been last time— eyes squeezed shut, cheeks flushed, arms shuddering beneath Shiro’s tight hold. The rawness in his voice as he cried out Shiro’s name burned like a flame beneath Shiro’s skin.

The two of them caught sharp, heaving breaths. There was something to it that hadn’t been there previously, pretense giving away to animal instinct. Shiro couldn’t say he hadn’t enjoyed it, but he felt a little guilty at having lost his composure, even briefly. He opened his eyes, which had fallen shut, and prepared to apologize to Keith, only to find that Keith was watching him almost reverently.

“Heh,” said Keith. “I wanted to see if I could do it.”

“Do what?”

“Get you to crack.” Keith licked his lips. “I figured there was something under there that you weren’t showing anybody.”

Shiro flushed, not knowing what to say. He realized he was still inside of Keith and pulled out. Keith moaned. Shiro watched his own come dribble out of Keith, watched Keith’s hole clench involuntarily around the emptiness. For a dangerous moment he thought about grabbing onto Keith’s hips, using his own come as lube and fucking into him until he cried. He didn’t have that kind of refractory period, though. But he could do something else. 

Keith had flopped over, his face to the pillow, resting. Shiro shifted down the bed until Keith’s ass was in front of his face. “Up,” Shiro said. Confused, Keith obeyed, wriggling his hips and lifting his ass in the air. And then Shiro pushed Keith’s legs apart, and licked.

“Oh my God,” Keith panted, voice hoarse. “‘Shiro, what are you—  _ fuck _ —” He trailed off into a whimper, pushing his face into the pillow, feet kicking. Shiro only smiled inwardly and continued, dipping his tongue inside, cleaning it out. 

“Mm— Shiro, I can’t—” High-pitched and desperate, he couldn’t do anything but grind his hips messily against the sheets. Shiro kept his cheeks spread with his hands, alternating between licking around his hole and thrusting his tongue in until Keith reached his breaking point.

Keith barely had enough in him for a second orgasm— a long shudder, a tiny spurt and a choked shout. Afterwards he melted into the mattress, face buried in the pillow, breathing heavily. 

“I can’t believe you paid me to eat my ass.”

“What can I say,” said Shiro, patting his hair. “I’m a giver.”

“And also,” Keith panted, turning to look at Shiro, “the fucking Hulk, apparently. Who actually breaks out of their own restraints like that?”

“Somebody really desperate to fuck you?”

Keith laughed, soft. “Don’t give  _ me  _ the credit.” 

The two of them were quiet for a bit. 

“So I—” Keith broke off to yawn. “I gotta get going.” His voice was slurred with post-coital sleepiness. Shiro thought of asking him to stay, but it seemed to cross some invisible line, so he didn’t.

“How much for today?”

“Fifty bucks,” Keith mumbled, face half buried in the pillow again and clearly making no indication to get up. Shiro suppressed a chuckle. So much for  _ I could leave you there and take all your cash. _

“Keith, I’m glad you enjoyed it, but don’t undersell yourself. I enjoyed it just as much.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Keith mumbled, then promptly nodded off to sleep. Shiro got up, slipped fifty plus a tip of one hundred more into the pocket of Keith’s pants, which were lying on the floor. He climbed back into bed and rolled Keith over so he could breathe. And then he lay there for a while, just watching, savouring the unguardedness of his sleeping face, and resisting the urge to throw an arm around him, to pull him close. 

So, Keith stayed after all.

 

-

 

When Shiro awoke Keith was gone. Shiro didn’t let it bother him. He took his meds, washed away the bitter taste with water, and carried on.


	4. Chapter 4

Life went on as usual. Shiro taught classes, watched a full lecture hall dissipate into a scattered audience as the weeks passed, skillfully deflected the flirtatious advances of his students, and mentored those who had their heart in the right place. He called his parents, worked on his research, ate the same brand of spicy cup noodles with the occasional bagged salad, and kept up the facade of a generally well-balanced life. He took his pills and didn’t think about his nightmares.

He didn’t think about Keith. Something about having Keith’s number, and not calling it, gave him the illusion that he still had some control over his life. All that was lost, in the end, when Keith was the one to find him.

It was late October by then. Shiro opened his door and there he was, his breath a puff of smoke disrupting the cold air. 

“You in the mood for a fuck?”

“Good to see you too,” said Shiro without batting an eye. 

“I’ve got a special offer for you,” Keith tried to drawl, crossed arms clutched tight to keep from shaking. There was no way the thin jacket he was wearing trapped any body heat at all. “I’ll let you fuck me for free tonight if you let me crash on your couch and borrow your wi-fi.” The bag of belongings he was carrying was about the size of the duffel bag Shiro brought to a two-day conference. 

Shiro would have to be literally soulless to refuse a possibly homeless boy shivering on his doorstep. It troubled him that Keith thought he had to earn it or that he owed Shiro anything. He wasn’t planning on fucking Keith. He would never take advantage of him that way, but he knew that if he voiced his thoughts Keith would take it as pity, and leave. He had to play his cards carefully. “Sure,” he said. “I’m about to go buy some groceries, though. You can head right in, make yourself at home. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

Keith’s eyebrows raised high in disbelief. “You’re letting me in your house? Alone? We barely know each other.”

Shiro chuckled. “I think we know each other more intimately than most.”

“I could steal all your shit.”

“Good. While you’re at it, take that stack of papers away from me so I don’t have to grade them.”

“I can’t just go in your house,” Keith said. “That’s… weird.”

“Then you can come with me,” Shiro said. “Wait a second.” He went back inside to fetch an old hoodie, then handed it to Keith. “Put this on. It’s freezing outside.”

“I’m not cold,” Keith said, and punctuated his point with a sneeze. Shiro raised an eyebrow. Keith put it on. The hoodie seemed to swallow him up, the sleeves covering the tips of his fingers. He looked small, vulnerable, plucking at a stray thread on the hoodie with a curiously innocent expression. When he caught Shiro watching he frowned and looked away.

They were silent on the way to the grocery store and still silent when they headed inside. It was an ironic twist on domesticity, the two of them going shopping as if they were together, Keith even wearing his hoodie. He trailed at a comfortable distance behind Shiro, making faces at his groceries of choice. 

“Your entire shopping cart is filled with cup noodles. Do you eat like this all the time? You’re going to die an early death.”

“Good,” said Shiro flippantly. 

Keith stared at him. 

“It was a joke,” Shiro explained. He left the cart there to grab some chips in another aisle, and by the time he came back the cup noodles were gone, replaced by a bag of vegetables. He looked at Keith, and Keith looked back, shrugging with feigned innocence. 

Shiro sighed. “I,” he said, flushing a little, “I can’t cook.”

Keith rolled his eyes, took out the bag, and tossed the cup noodles back in. “If you die, it’s not my fault.”

Small victories. Shiro was smiling more than he should have been. 

They headed back after that, and Keith followed Shiro inside, standing and watching rather uncertainly as Shiro put everything in the cupboards where they belonged, save for two cup noodles which he set on the kitchen counter. “You hungry?” 

“Nah,” Keith said. 

Two could play at this game. “Suit yourself,” Shiro lied, pouring hot water into both cups. “I’m eating both of these. I’m a growing boy.” He dug in, feeling a little guilty at the way Keith was visibly struggling not to lean closer to the alluring smell. All according to plan. Once he’d finished the first cup, he set it down. Keith eyed him warily.

“I’m full,” he proclaimed, and gestured to the second cup, still untouched. “You wanna help me finish this one? I wouldn’t want to throw it in the trash.”

Keith glared at Shiro. “You lied. You weren’t gonna eat it.” 

Shiro stared back with a faint smile. “I’m still not gonna eat it. It’s either you or the trash.”

Keith snatched up the cup and shovelled the noodles into his mouth faster than Shiro had thought humanly possible. When he was done he put the empty cup on the counter and carefully avoided Shiro’s eye. “Thanks for the food,” he said gruffly.

“No problem,” Shiro said happily, throwing the cups away and pouring some water for the both of them. Keith took it cautiously, and as he was drinking Shiro brushed right past him, taking up his usual seat on the couch and picking up a book.

“Hey,” Keith said sharply, following him over. “Aren’t we gonna fuck?”

Shiro patted his stomach. “I need time to digest my food first. If you’re bored, you can watch TV.”

Keith muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like  _ bullshit,  _ but did as told. Shiro didn’t miss the way he sat on the other end of the couch, leaving a gaping space between him and Shiro, and hesitated for a beat before picking up the remote. As if painstakingly aware that he was a stranger to the place, not wanting to disturb it. They stayed like that for a while, Shiro not absorbing a single word on the page, Keith’s eyes wandering far too often from the screen. Until suddenly Keith’s finger was playing with the hem of Shiro’s shirt and Shiro’s breath hitched audibly in his throat.

Keith smirked, smug, and opened his mouth to declare victory when Shiro jerked away and strode across the room and into the bathroom. “I’m going to shower,” he said, and shut the door promptly on the look of shocked annoyance on Keith’s face.

When he was done, he realized he had forgotten to get a set of clean clothes, so he emerged with a towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water sliding down his still wet skin.

Keith shot up from his spot on the couch. “Okay, this is the last straw,” he said. “I don’t care how busy you are. I am going to lose it if you don’t get your dick inside me in the next five minutes.”

Not exactly the reaction Shiro had expected. Not that he’d done it for a reaction— he had honestly just forgotten his clothes. His face felt a little warm, but he forced himself to remain calm. “Keith, I’m not going to fuck you.”

_ “What?”  _ He sounded so hysterical it was almost comical.

Shiro sighed. “What I’m saying is, don’t feel obligated to sleep with me. If you need a place to stay I’m not going to ask why, I’m not going to say no, and I’m certainly not going to ask you to do anything you otherwise wouldn’t just to earn it. I have more than enough space than I know what to do with. If you don’t feel like sharing a bed, I’ll take the couch for the night.”

For a long moment there was silence. Keith’s eyes were wide as he stared at Shiro, and despite the shock there was something almost tender in them. And then he spoke.

“Are you stupid?” Keith sounded equal parts exasperated and desperate. “How many clients do you think I have? Why do you think I came here? I’m not just doing it out of obligation. I would pay to fuck you if I could afford it. You are doing  _ me  _ a service.”

Shiro blinked. Keith, apparently as stunned by the outburst as Shiro was, blushed an angry red. And Shiro didn’t waste any more time— he tugged Keith in by the collar and pressed their lips together. Keith still tasted a little bit like cup noodles, and strangely enough that made Shiro smile into the kiss more than anything else. Keith seemed a little irritated by this, biting down hard on Shiro’s lower lip and grinding their hips together, making him moan in surprise. In Shiro’s moment of inaction Keith pushed him down onto the couch and straddled him. 

“So. With that out of the way. Do you want to?”

Keith’s voice was rough, but it was still an honest question. 

“Of course,” Shiro admitted. “You’re all I’ve been thinking about.”

The act felt a lot more familiar than it should have. The curve of Keith’s back, shuddering as Shiro kneaded his ass cheeks. The uninhibited, filthy noises he made half-muffled by the cushions. The hot stickiness of sweat on Keith’s body— ah, he was finally warming up, so Shiro had accomplished his goal after all. Despite all this Shiro was hesitant at the beginning, trying to keep his control mostly for Keith’s sake. At least until Keith started pushing back, fucking himself on Shiro’s cock. When Shiro only gripped Keith’s hips but didn’t respond, Keith shot him a deliberate look over his shoulder. “Come on, big boy,” he said. “I know you can fuck me better than that.”

There was something fulfilling about losing his inhibitions, focusing singlemindedly on fucking hard into Keith and drawing broken noises from his throat. Keith came first— Shiro held onto him and kept going, Keith’s breathy, helpless whimpers as Shiro continued to pound into his oversensitive walls driving Shiro to his own climax.

Afterwards, sated by the pleasure of release in more ways than one, they lay there for a while. Shiro lifted his weight off Keith, and, with only minimal resistance, picked Keith up and carried him off to the bedroom. The sheets were much comfier. They should have done this here to begin with.

The buzzing of Keith’s phone prompted him to groan, eyes still shut, and sweep his arm blindly around.

“It’s in the living room,” Shiro offered. “Your jacket’s on the floor.”

“Fuck,” Keith said through gritted teeth. He got up stiffly and hobbled out the bedroom door, then hobbled back in a moment later. Shiro, though mostly sympathetic, was not above feeling a bit of pride.

“It’s Lance,” said Keith. “You saw him once, I think.” 

“I remember him.”

“We’re roommates,” Keith went on. “ _ Were _ roommates, until today. We got kicked out. He’s crashing at his sister’s place until we can find a new apartment. He said I could stay with them too, but I didn’t want to intrude.” Keith shrugged and put his phone on the nightstand, sinking back into the bed. He pulled the covers up and shifted so he was laying on his side with his back facing Shiro. “I guess I’m still kind of intruding though.”

“You know, Keith, I meant what I said,” Shiro said. “You can come by any time, regardless of whether or not you want to have sex. And you can stay as long as you want, or not at all. I don’t really have people over, so I could use some company.”

Keith was still. But Shiro knew he hadn’t fallen asleep. It was just a matter of whether he would choose to respond or pretend he heard nothing.

After what felt like the longest moment of his life, Keith finally opened his mouth.

“Okay,” he said, and with one word, a weight was lifted from Shiro’s chest.


	5. Chapter 5

Though he decided officially to stay with Lance and his sister, Keith started hanging around Shiro’s place more often. Shiro grew accustomed to coming home from his office to see Keith sitting on his doorstep, one knee drawn up to his chest and the other leg stretched out as he scrolled passively on his phone or petted the neighbourhood stray cat. The first time, Keith had been hesitant. Shiro had caught him peeking out from around the corner much like the way Shiro had been watching him that first night. “Déjà vu,” Shiro had said without turning, loud enough for Keith to hear. Keith had stepped out with an embarrassed chuckle. “But from my experience, watching someone from around the corner usually ends up with the two of you going to your place,” Shiro had joked, turning the key in the lock, “so you might as well come in now.” 

Keith had snorted. “That’s really bad advice.”

Shiro had simply shrugged, hanging his coat on the chair. “I did say from my experience, which is admittedly lacking. Let’s see.” He sat on the couch and counted off his fingers. “One, two, three. And four.” He pointed to Keith. “Can’t even finish off all my human fingers.”

“You’re kidding,” Keith said in disbelief. “You’ve only had sex with four people in your entire life? And one of them is a hooker?”

“Hey, don’t discount yourself,” said Shiro. “For what it’s worth, you easily top the list.” 

“Is everybody blind or are you just  _ really  _ shy?” Keith sat on the arm of the couch, perched precariously. “Oh I know. You have some kind of weird thing going on, don’t you. Like, you pick your nose and don’t wash your hands. Or you murder animals and you stuff them and put them on display.” He made a face. “Here’s hoping I never find out.”

Shiro laughed. “Okay, I don’t kill animals for sport. And I don’t pick my nose without washing my hands.” He paused. “Hand. There you have it, my weird thing.” He waved his right hand for effect. 

Keith caught his hand mid-wave. Shiro’s heart stuttered faintly in his chest. Keith turned his hand over casually, like the flipping of a page. “Not the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said. Then, a new look in his eye, he brought Shiro’s hand up to cup his cheek, thumb in his mouth, and swirled his tongue around it. “Kind of a turn on, actually.”

“Well,” said Shiro, “let’s see what this baby can do.”

They took it to the bedroom. No preamble this time. Shiro flipped the door shut, hopped on the bed and flipped on the vibration switch in his arm. Keith’s eyes bulged and his jaw dropped.

“You didn’t  _ tell me_?” was Keith’s offended response. “You have a state-of-the-art built-in sex toy in your arm and you didn’t tell me. We could’ve put it to so much good use.”

“I didn’t want my arm to get all the attention,” Shiro said placidly. “There were other parts of my body that were dying to be inside you.”

Keith snorted a laugh. “I forgive you. Besides, it’s never too late,” he said and practically hauled Shiro on top of him. Several minutes later Shiro had three vibrating fingers buried inside Keith’s ass. Several minutes after that Keith was reduced to a whimpering, sobbing mess, clutching the pillow like a lifeline as he came for the second time.

It was a pleasant escape. Lying there next to Keith, feeling like there was not nearly enough oxygen in the room, Shiro realized he could get used to this, eating the forbidden meal right off the silver platter on which it was served. To give in to something raw and instinctual inside him and to not have to worry about hurting anybody was a luxury. Keith was providing Shiro with much more than he could put a price on.

And so they fell into a routine. He would get home from work and sometimes Keith would be there, an elusive yet constant presence. He stayed the night often, never till morning. They shared a meal only occasionally. Shiro still knew little of his background, his family, his life before  _ this.  _ But during certain brief pockets of time in which the world seemed narrowed down to the two of them, they lived without repercussion. They christened every piece of furniture. They bought toys Shiro had never even heard of. They did body shots off one another and Keith got drunk and Shiro got drunk on Keith’s laughter and the easy way with which he held himself, eyes bright, guard down. And when Shiro awoke the next morning his memories were a bit of a blur but the one thing he recalled, the one thing he felt in his bones, was that if this was all a long dream, it was the best one he’d ever had.

 

-

 

One day he was greeted by the unusual sight of two people arguing on his doorstep.

“It’s not a mullet,” Keith said, jaw set with irritation. “I don’t  _ want  _ you to cut it for me.”

“It is  _ so  _ a mullet,” Lance said in a frenzied voice. “Look, the more you let it grow out the sooner all your regulars are going to ditch you. Except for the ones with a hair pulling kink.”

“Hello,” said Shiro. The two of them turned to face him. 

Lance gave a long, appreciative wolf whistle. “Well  _ hello  _ there.” He turned to Keith and stage-whispered, “You didn’t tell me he was  _ this hot._”

Keith scowled. “And this is exactly why.” 

Shiro coughed into his hand. “I’m guessing the two of you would like to come in?”

“Oh no, not me,” said Lance. “I’m just here to get my favourite jacket, because Keith stole it from me and left it in there. And I figured it wouldn’t hurt to see this Shiro guy Keith talks about.” Keith whirled and faced Lance with a dangerous look, but Lance was unfazed. “You know, the one who stole my roommate from me and deprived him of his main source of income. It’s nice to meet you, by the way.” 

“It’s good to meet you too.” Shiro extended his right hand. Lance froze for a moment as he glanced down, surprised, at metal where flesh should be. But he hesitated only for a moment before shaking it, grip firm. 

The three of them entered Shiro’s apartment, and Lance looked around, humming appreciatively. “Nice place. Are you and Keith like, exclusive? Would you do business with anybody else?” He waggled his eyebrows. Keith elbowed him in the gut.

“I don’t regularly solicit prostitutes, no,” Shiro answered simply. “Coffee? Tea?”

“Tea, please and thank you,” Lance said, as he and Keith sat down on the couch. Shiro prepared tea for Lance and coffee as usual for Keith, then brought them their cups. Lance didn’t touch his tea, opting instead to stretch one arm sensually over the back of the couch and tuck a leg in under him. The loose collar of his shirt dropped right off, exposing a shoulder.

“Look, Shiro, here’s the thing. I’m really expensive. Cream de la cream, or something like that. But I’ve got a special discount just for you,” Lance said, batting his eyelashes coyly. “Hundred bucks, how’s that?”

That was how much Keith had offered to sell himself for that first time. Shiro tried not to let the amusement show on his face. “I’m sorry, Lance, but that’s a no.”

Lance’s eyebrows rose up so high they almost touched his bangs. “Fifty, then.”

“Afraid not.”

“Twenty?” Voice laced with disbelief.

Shiro shook his head.

Lance slammed his hand down on the table, nearly spilling their drinks. “Ten bucks and a box of chicken mcnuggets.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s still a no,” Shiro said through good-natured laughter.

“Why?” Lance said, feigning pain, pressing a hand over his injured heart.

“You’re— very attractive, and I’m sure you’re very—” Shiro raised his hands, then dropped them to his sides. “Skilled. Just not my type.”

“Right, your type is broody emo twinks.”

Keith crossed his arms. “I’m not any more of a twink than you are.”

“Oh, you’re right.” Lance brightened up. “Does that mean I have a chance?”

“Lance, shut the hell up.”

“I’m kidding, relax. Stop being so territorial, what are you, a guard dog?”

Keith bristled at the implication that Shiro was something of his. Lance, oblivious, leaned forward and took a sip of his tea. “Mm, this is good.” He crossed his legs and stretched out in a relaxed posture, while to his right Keith sat slightly hunched over with crossed arms. They made quite a duo. “So, Shiro. What do you do?”

“I’m a university professor.”

Lance nodded, making a noise of approval. “Impressive. So you’re like, what, in your thirties?”

“Twenty-seven, but thanks, I’m really feeling that seven year age gap right about now.”

“Six year age gap,” said Lance.

Shiro looked at Keith. “I thought you were twenty?”

“Twenty-one. His birthday was October 23rd,” said Lance helpfully.

Shiro felt a pang of guilt. “You mean the day you—”

“Yeah,” said Lance. “Got kicked out of the apartment because the landlord found out me and Keith were gay prostitutes. Thus having to resort to giving out more sex in exchange for a place to stay. That was his birthday.” So that was what had happened that night. “I gotta say, though, what you did for him was a really good thing.” Lance flashed Shiro a quick, genuine smile. “Second best birthday present ever. Second only to that bomb ass cake I got you, am I right Keith?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Just get your jacket and get out.”

Lance mimicked Keith’s words in a high-pitched mocking voice, and stuck his tongue out. He looked at Shiro and jerked a thumb towards Keith. “Kids these days. They bang a hot client and think they’re better than the rest of the world. Just kidding. He’s always been like that.” He scooped his jacket off the couch, dusting it off. He headed for the door, then stopped. “Shiro, can you come here for a second? And gimme your phone.”

With Keith’s eyes trained on him the whole time, Shiro got out of his seat and followed Lance to the door. He handed Lance his phone, a little confused until Lance opened up his contacts and typed in a number.  

“There. Now you have my number, in case you ever wanna do business.” He winked. “But also, let me know if anything happens to him.” He jerked his chin over at Keith, face solemn. “‘Cause I figure he’ll be at your place a lot. I don’t know, just keep me in the loop.”

“Okay,” Shiro promised. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it.”

“Are you and Keith…?”

“Dating? No! God no, we’re just friends. We met way back when I first became a hooker. He kinda took me under his wing, beat up some bad guys for me, taught me how to stand up for myself. He’s helped me out a lot.” Lance lowered his voice. “I’ve known him over a year now, and I’ve never heard of him fucking anybody for free, let alone more than once. So whatever’s going on between you guys, be good to him, alright?”

Shiro nodded. “I will.”

From what he had seen of Keith he knew that Keith wasn’t the type to be close to many people, and Lance had only confirmed that. It was a wonder he was even here with Shiro. He took a long shower, and thought about it, and found that he still didn’t quite understand.

Keith was still outside on his couch. Shiro felt a little bad, but he’d had a long day at work, and he needed to destress a little, so. “Are you done?” Keith said.

“Yeah,” Shiro called back. Barely seconds later Keith opened the door. And stood there, eyeing Shiro in pleasant surprise. 

Shiro flushed. “I was going to add,  _ in just a sec.” _

“Sorry,” said Keith, clearly not meaning it. He gave Shiro a once-over, then stepped close, placing his hands at Shiro’s hips. His mouth was just at the right height to press his lips to the crook of Shiro’s neck in an open-mouthed kiss that held nothing but promise.

“I just showered,” said Shiro with mild amusement. Still, his hands settled at Keith’s waist almost of their own accord.

Keith dragged his tongue along Shiro’s neck. “So?” He bit down.

“So I—” Shiro squirmed, feeling himself grow hard against Keith. “So I’d have to—” Keith rocked their hips together, and Shiro cursed. “Shower again. Okay. I’ll do it.” 

Keith smirked against Shiro’s skin. “Atta boy.”

It slipped out in that moment. “What is it about me?” 

“Mm?” Keith barely paused his ministrations, glancing up.

“What is it you like so much that you gave up a reliable source of income to have sex with me for free?”

Keith gave him a long, hard look. “Are you kidding me?”

Shiro blushed. “Never mind,” he said hurriedly, “forget I—  _ ah. _ ”

Keith had circled a mouth over his nipple and began to suck. Shiro clenched his jaw, tightened his hold on the counter.

“Relax,” Keith murmured into his skin. “Let me take care of you. Turn around for me.”

Shiro flushed at those words as he turned and propped his elbows up on the counter. Being in control, holding himself taut was something he’d trained himself to do since long ago. The idea of letting himself go was strange, but not altogether unpleasant. He wanted to. Whether or not he could was a different story. 

“You think too much,” Keith said. Shiro could feel the little smile on his lips as he pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the crook of Shiro’s neck, simultaneously reassuring and heated. “Don’t think. Just feel,” he said, dipping a finger between Shiro’s ass cheeks, drawing a breathy gasp. “Lube?”

“Drawer to my left.” 

He heard the bottle open. He stiffened a little as Keith pressed his finger to his entrance, and felt a shudder as Keith dipped it inside. 

“Is this okay?”

He could see Keith in the mirror, watching him, face serious. “Yeah,” said Shiro.

When it was all the way in Shiro bit his lip, adjusting to the feeling. Keith thrust his finger a few times. “You’re doing good,” he said, right by Shiro’s ear, and Shiro’s knees trembled a little. Keith caught his earlobe between his teeth, grazing lightly, then kissed down Shiro’s neck as he inserted another. A gasp escaped Shiro’s lips as Keith continued to thrust his fingers, adding a third, stroking his cock with his other hand. Unsure of whether to push back against Keith’s fingers or jerk his hips into Keith’s grasp, he was caught in a limbo of small, uncoordinated movements. Until Keith found his prostate and he  _ groaned,  _ feeling it in his entire body.

“You look amazing, like this.” Keith’s voice was like a drug. He tilted Shiro’s head up slightly with a finger. Shiro caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror— he didn’t look like himself. Keith held his gaze, eyes intense, making Shiro ache with desire. 

Keith’s voice was low. “What do you want me to do to you?”

“Fuck me,” said Shiro breathlessly.

That was all Keith needed to hear. He thrust into Shiro, and Shiro nearly went dizzy with the feeling, nails scraping against the counter. “You feel so good,” Keith said, voice breaking as he picked up the pace, holding on to Shiro’s hips as he thrust into him. When he found Shiro’s prostate again Shiro melted, face hot against the coolness of the counter, knees shaking with the effort to stay upright. 

“God,” said Keith, voice raw. “Just look at you.” Shiro flushed harder at the sight in the mirror— he was  _ wrecked,  _ and so was Keith, apparently, though still in control enough to graze his teeth against Shiro’s shoulder before biting down. He flicked his thumb over Shiro’s slit and Shiro could feel himself teetering close to the edge.

“I want to hear you say my name,” Keith said low in his ear. “Wanna hear how it sounds when you come.”

“Keith,” Shiro gasped, and Keith groaned and buried himself deeper inside Shiro, hitting his prostate dead on. That was all it took for Shiro to topple over the edge, his orgasm hitting him like a punch in the gut as he came all over the side of the counter. Keith followed, a few final thrusts later, and the feeling of hot come inside Shiro had him moaning brokenly again, fists tightening against the counter. 

Keith pulled out, panting heavily, caressing Shiro’s backside with a soothing hand. 

“That was really good,” Shiro blurted out. 

“Yeah,” Keith said in awe. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while. But somehow you were ten times hotter than I imagined.”

Shiro was sure his face was overheating, but, still catching his breath, was unable to say anything or move much at all.

“Do you need another shower?”

Keith’s voice was soft, concerned. Shiro shook his head and stood, albeit a little wobbly. 

“I’m good. Thanks.”

Keith handed him a towel wordlessly, and he cleaned himself off. 

“To bed?” 

Shiro nodded. He was getting used to this, lying quietly next to Keith, who, with every passing day, was becoming a bit less enigmatic. He learned a thing or two about himself too, he supposed. He hadn’t known he wanted… that. How did Keith even know? He looked over at Keith, only to see that he had already fallen asleep, and smiled secretively to himself.


	6. Chapter 6

Shiro didn’t get angry often. If you asked his students he didn’t get angry at all. If you asked Pidge and Hunk and Allura, they could count the times they’d seen him angry on one hand. 

Right when Keith walked through the door, Shiro knew that something was off. The feeling only intensified when Keith placed his hands on Shiro’s chest and pinned Shiro up against the door, slamming it shut. For a single heartbeat they stayed like that, Keith’s head hanging low, his bangs covering his face. And then Keith was cupping Shiro’s jaw with a gloved hand and kissing him like he was starved for it, breathing hard and fast and pressing close.

“Keith— hah,” Shiro tried to say his name, but it came out as a helpless moan. He was putty in Keith’s hands. He jerked away quickly. “Keith,” he tried again, more forcefully, and was ignored. Keith simply continued kissing him.

“Fuck me,” he said breathily into the corner of Shiro’s mouth. His voice was tight, desperate. And as much as Shiro wanted to give in to that demand, he knew now more than ever that something was wrong. He wriggled out of Keith’s grasp and gripped him by both arms, intending to push him away, but Keith visibly winced in pain.

Silence. For a moment, the only sound was of the clock ticking. Then Shiro spoke. “Keith, take off your clothes.”

Keith didn’t move. “Hah.” A forced laugh. “You don’t usually ask, you just do it.”

“Then I will.”

“Don’t—”

Shiro pushed Keith’s shirt up. His blood turned to ice.

His normally pale skin was mottled with ugly purple bruises blooming wildly across his chest, his ribs. There was a fresh cut there, no longer bleeding, but looking like it had been very recently. Anger wrapped its fingers around Shiro’s throat, rendering him speechless. It was the frightened look that flashed across Keith’s face that brought him back to reality.

_ Who did this, _ he wanted to demand, but knew it would make no difference. There was nothing he could do. “We need to get you patched up,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. 

“Shiro, I—”

“Sit down.” He gestured to the couch. His words came out colder than he intended, and Keith obeyed. Shiro went to his cabinet and returned with his first aid kit. Keith looked smaller than usual, a little bit hunched over in what looked like shame.

Upon closer inspection, the wounds were every bit as bad as they appeared. Gently, he ghosted his fingers along the inflicted skin, not missing the way Keith inhaled shakily and bit his lip. Shiro forced himself to take a breath, then let it out through his nose, and unclenched his jaw. He looked at Keith. “You came here to have sex when you’re like this? Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

Keith refused to meet Shiro’s eyes. “It’s not that bad.”

Shiro pressed down, as gently as he could to still be able to prove his point. Keith winced, attempting but failing to bite back a sound of pain.

“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “I’m fine. We can still—” 

“Keith,” Shiro said incredulously. “That is the last thing on my mind right now.”

Keith hesitated. After a while, he spoke again. “It’s not something that happens often.”

What was supposed to sound reassuring served only as a cold slap in the face. The harsh reality that the two of them had danced around. Keith endured this for a living. Keith was good at it because he did this for a living. “So,” said Shiro, “it’s happened before.”

“Don’t patronize me.” Keith’s glare was knife-sharp.

“I’m not,” Shiro said, equally determined.

Keith broke their mutual gaze. “A regular of mine wanted to ‘try something new.’ He’s not a regular of mine anymore. Sure I need food on the table, but I also need my limbs intact or there won’t be anybody to feed.”

The angry knot in Shiro’s chest softened at the expression on Keith’s face. Keith was smart, Shiro knew that. He could take care of himself, knew when to draw the line. That didn’t stop the feeling of protectiveness. When you were the only one looking out for yourself, there were bound to be blind spots.

“Come here,” said Shiro. Keith shifted hesitantly forward. Shiro did, too, to close the distance between them. “Let me know if it hurts.” Shiro began to dab ointment on the cut as gently as he could. Keith visibly winced, biting down on his lip to hold back a noise that still escaped, albeit almost inaudibly. Shiro watched, fascinated by the myriad of expressions on his face, how quickly the raw pain shifted into a dull, habitual defensiveness. His eyelashes were long. He had a very small mole near his right eye. Shiro finished bandaging the cut and held the ice pack gently to the bruise on his chest. 

Keith took the ice pack from Shiro’s grasp. “I can do this myself.”

Shiro held on to the ice pack. “Let me do this for you anyway.”  _ I can’t do much else but this. _

“Shiro.” The hard look was back in his eyes, but there was an edge of tiredness. As if he was tired of fighting Shiro, fighting himself, over this. “I don’t need your pity.”

“I’m not doing this out of pity,” Shiro said evenly. “I’m doing this because I care about you.”

Keith’s eyes went wide, and he went quiet. He looked at Shiro, the silence stretching out painfully, the stretch of a rubber band slingshot. Either it would fire, or the band would break. Shiro decided to fire.

“I know it’s hard for you to accept,” he says, heart racing in his chest, “but I want you to anyways. I want you to know that you’re always welcome here and that you don’t have to keep tabs of owing favours. I don’t want us to be like that. I want us to be just that— us.”

Keith let out a breath as if he didn’t know he’d been holding it, a disbelieving sigh. He opened his mouth to speak but seemed to find no words. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, he began to move forward, closing the small space between them and leaning his head on Shiro’s shoulder.

Affection swelled in Shiro’s chest at a rate he had once thought impossible, and just as slowly, just as carefully, he wrapped his arms around Keith, holding him there. A moment later Keith did the same, slid his slender arms around Shiro’s waist, so hesitant, so gentle, as if if he touched too hard the moment would break. And then, like a starving child who had taken his first bite of food, he broke from everything that had been holding him back, and melted into Shiro’s arms, holding him close.


	7. Chapter 7

Occupying a secluded area a ways away from the bustling city, the university campus was a small city of its own. Huge, modern, towering white atop a vast expanse of green, dotted with people too far to see from a distance. Shiro’s office was lucky enough to have a view overlooking a small park and pond. It was pleasant, to be able to have the sunlight streaming in, to hear birds outside and to see a squirrel or two scuttle up the tree near his window while he worked. At night— and this was his favourite time, given that he was an astrophysics professor, after all— he could look up and see the stars. As close as he wanted, too, since he access to any of the university’s most advanced telescopes and a rooftop key.

“Thanks for the extra help, Shiro,” Ezor said with a bright grin, getting up out of the chair next to his desk. “I’m really starting to get the hang of this chapter.”

“It’s all on you,” Shiro replied amicably. “You pick things up really fast, and you have a really unique way of seeing things. By the way— there’s something I think you’d be interested in.” He pushed the flyer across his desk and watched her eyes light up.

“A competition? Pitch an innovation that uses science to improve people’s lives… and get two years’ worth of tuition.” She paused. “Huh. You think I’d have a shot?”

“Of course,” said Shiro. “It’s not till March, but it wouldn’t hurt to start thinking about it. You can have help from one or two mentors in grad school, too. You’ll need a team of undergrads, but that shouldn’t be too hard. You’re friends with Acxa, right?” 

Ezor nodded. “Yeah. Oh! I could get her to be on my team!”

“Great,” Shiro said with a smile. “Let me know how it goes.”

She left the room with a swing in her step that wasn’t there before. Shiro sat back in his chair. It was nice to have a small piece of influence in bettering someone else’s life even if he didn’t have a lot of control over his own. 

He wondered what Keith was doing right about now. Keith had begun to come over more often lately. A couple days ago, he had given Keith the spare key. Keith had taken it in his hand delicately like some heirloom, and then, at the look on Shiro’s face, had curled his fist around it and pocketed it with a smile.

A knock on Shiro’s office door disrupted him from his thoughts. “Come in,” he said without looking up.

“You look happy,” was Pidge’s first remark. 

“Do I?” Shiro cocked his head. “It’s a nice day today.”

“Yeah, alright, if that’s what’s made you smile all morning long,” said Hunk, waggling his eyebrows. 

“You haven’t seen me all morning.”

Hunk pointed accusingly. “I saw you heading into your morning lecture, okay? There was a  _ bounce  _ in your step. Anyway. You wanna head out for lunch?”

Shiro touched his mouth absentmindedly, and discovered his lips were, in fact, upturned. He tried on a neutral face. “Sure.”

“Great,” said Hunk. “Let’s check out that new sushi place in the town square.” 

The excitement on Hunk’s face at the mere mention of food was infectious. Had Shiro not taught Hunk himself, he would’ve thought Hunk was a culinary student, when really the food thing was just his side job, working at his mom’s bakery. They had met before Shiro had enlisted, back when Shiro was a teaching assistant for an introductory astrophysics course. He knew Pidge already, since childhood. He had met Hunk, Pidge’s first new friend, when the two of them had taken the course as an elective, and were both in Engineering— Pidge in Mechatronics, Hunk in Robotics. The four of them had grown inseparably close. Shiro, Allura, Pidge, Hunk. To Shiro, that time felt like a lifetime ago. On the surface, nothing had changed except that they were now graduate students and Shiro had acquired a PhD and a scar across his nose. They didn’t talk about the fact that Shiro and Matt had enlisted together, and only one of them had made it back.

It was easy to take himself back to his previous life, talking to Pidge and Hunk. Listening to the two of them discuss their latest research, watching proudly the passion that lit up their eyes. He picked up a piece of sashimi with his chopsticks, and looked down at the metal of his hand, which, too, was theirs. The fact that the two of them had worked for years to engineer the arm for him was, at first, the only thing that kept him from ripping it off and never wearing it again. Over time he grew accustomed to it.

“Shiro?”

He looked up at Pidge and Hunk, who were staring. “Yeah, sorry. What’s up?”

“We were just saying, did anything happen at that conference you went to?” said Pidge. 

“Well, there were a lot of researchers from around the world with some pretty groundbreaking discoveries,” Shiro said. 

“Not that,” said Hunk. “You know you can turn off your prof mode when you’re with us. We mean, with  _ you.  _ It feels like something’s changed about you.”

_ I slept with a prostitute, who’s now my roommate-slash-friend-with-benefits.  _ “Nothing really,” said Shiro. He scrounged his mind for something to talk about. “Did you know my arm can vibrate?”

“Yep,” said Pidge. “We programmed that on purpose. Figured we’d save you some money on sex toys. Is that why you’re all happy lately?”

Hunk did a comical spit-take. “What? Pidge, I thought that was so he could give himself a back massage. For stress relief.”

“Yeah, stress relief in its myriad of forms,” Pidge fired back without missing a beat, while Hunk’s face remained beet red. Shiro’s own face felt kind of warm. He hadn’t expected the conversation to take this turn, but he supposed the blame lay on himself for bringing up the arm thing.

“Speaking of which,” Pidge said in a very meaningful tone of voice. She leaned on her elbow across the table, close to Shiro. “You wanna know what happened to Hunk at his birthday party? You know, the one you missed because you had to go to the conference?”

The redness of Hunk’s face was nearly inhuman. “No, no, no.” Hunk waved his hands frantically, nearly knocking over his drink. “Trust me Shiro you do  _ not—” _

_ “He slept with a prostitute.” _

Shiro choked on his drink. Pidge rubbed circles on his back while Hunk buried his face in his hands. 

“Hunk, what?” was all Shiro could manage.

“Okay, okay, stop  _ looking  _ at me like that, I know it’s illegal and wrong but it was  _ not  _ my fault, okay, my friends got me really drunk and Rax was all, like,  _ hey, buddy, here’s your birthday present from me!  _ And he shoved me into this room and there was this  _ guy.  _ And he was like.” Hunk swallowed nervously, a different look in his eyes, one Shiro hadn’t seen before. “He was really, really beautiful.”

“We know, Hunk.” Pidge gave him a  _ my aro ass can’t relate but I still love you _ sort of look. Shiro suddenly felt like the biggest hypocrite in the world. He took a deep breath and was about to spill the truth of what had happened to him during that same weekend when Hunk sighed. It wasn’t any sigh. It was a deep, depressed sigh that had Shiro instantly concerned. He slouched in his chair, and it was then that Shiro noticed with shock that Hunk had barely touched his plate of sushi.

“I think I have feelings for him.”

Shiro swallowed hard. “What makes you think so?”

Hunk shrugged, picking at a splinter in the surface of the table. “I just can’t stop thinking about him. I mean. I kind of… bought him a couple more times, because I wanted to see him, but then the last time we met up he didn’t want to take my money. He wanted me to bake him a cake instead? So I brought him to my mom’s bakery and showed him some of the cakes and we didn’t even do anything, we just ended up having a little food fight and a deep life talk and it felt— it really felt like a date. It felt like he really… liked me.” Hunk paused and let out a deep breath.

It took Shiro a long time to process all that. “Wow,” was all he could say in the end. “That’s pretty great, Hunk. It sounds like you really have something going on between you.”

Hunk shifted awkwardly. “But I need your help, Shiro. I don’t even  _ know  _ if he likes me. He’s probably just acting like he does because I’m a client. And even if he did. How do I ask him out without making it weird?”

Shiro patted him on the shoulder. “That’s something you’re going to have to figure out on your own, Hunk. But be honest with him. Let him know how you really feel. Make sure he knows you’re not trying to take advantage of him, and that you really like him.” 

Hunk’s expression of worry relaxed a little, and Shiro smiled warmly. “We’re rooting for you, buddy.”

“Yeah,” Pidge piped up. “And you totally have to bring him to meet us if it goes well.”

A warm smile spread like sunshine across Hunk’s face. “Thanks, guys. I will.”

 

-

 

When he opened the door that evening he was greeted with the sight of Keith curled up loosely on the couch, a bag of animal crackers in one hand and  _ Astrophysics for People in a Hurry  _ in his other. Keith had been staying here for over a month, but only recently had he stopped asking permission to touch Shiro’s things, read his books, raid his fridge guilt-free. Shiro fought a smile, and lost.

Keith looked up. “What’re you all happy about?” he asked dubiously.

“Nothing. I had lunch with Hunk and Pidge today, it was nice.” Shiro nodded at the book Keith held. “I didn’t know you’d taken an interest in astrophysics.”

“Not really,” said Keith with an air of defensiveness. “I just forgot your Netflix password after I accidentally logged you out.”

“Apollo8,” Shiro said, strolling over to the kitchen.

“Thanks. Who’s Takashi, by the way?”

Shiro paused in the middle of pouring water into the coffee maker. “What?”

“On the home screen when you log in. It says ‘Who’s watching? Takashi, Hunk, Pidge, Allura.’”

“That’s me,” Shiro answered. 

Keith turned around to blink at him. “What?”

“Takashi Shirogane,” Shiro said rather stupidly. “That’s my name. Everybody just calls me Shiro.”

Keith hummed. “Huh.” He regarded Shiro, looking slightly perturbed. He turned back to the TV.

Shiro waited for the coffee and watched  _ Friends  _ over Keith’s shoulder, enjoying the tranquil quiet, the slant of the evening sun casting light over the tiled kitchen floor. Studying the newly emerged Keith who sometimes gave little sign of noticing Shiro’s presence and showed no inclination towards sex. Relaxed on the couch, one knee drawn up to his chest, jaw lax and eyes half-closed, Shiro liked this version of Keith, too. He was more than happy that Keith didn’t feel the obligation to provide the sexual favours that he had done all day.

The beeping of the coffee machine snapped him out of his moment and he poured two cups. To the first he added nothing. In the second he dumped unhealthy— and this was coming from  _ Shiro—  _ amounts of cream and sugar _.  _ Shiro found it funny that Keith policed his grocery-shopping habits and yet voluntarily did this to himself.

“Coffee’s ready,” Shiro said, striding over to the living room and handing Keith his cup of cream-with-a-dash-of-coffee. Keith took it with a  _ thanks,  _ pink tongue darting out to test the temperature and flinching a little upon burning himself. 

“It’s hot,” Shiro said belatedly. 

“Yeah, I should’ve known,” Keith replied bitterly. On screen, a laugh track played in the background. Shiro turned his attention back to the television. When the episode ended, Shiro turned to face Keith and saw that his arms were crossed and he was wearing an oddly pensive look, as if mulling over a problem.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” said Keith. Shiro raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. Keith uncrossed his arms and plucked at a thread on the armrest of the couch. “Okay. It’s Lance. He thinks he’s in love with a client. Apparently the guy took him to his bakery or something and Lance thinks it was a date. Why’re you looking at me like that?” 

“Nothing, sorry,” said Shiro, even as the realization clicked into place. It really was a small world. “Keep going.”

“Well he asked me for advice, so I told him to quit seeing the guy and move on. He’s been miserable. Lying in bed all day for a week and blowing off work. I don’t know what to do.”

“Has he tried telling this guy how he feels?”

Keith spun on Shiro, a wild look in his eye. “Are you joking? This is a client we’re talking about, Shiro. Those guys don’t fall in love with people like us. Best case scenario, the guy cuts Lance off and they never see each other again. Worst case scenario, he’s an asshole and uses the knowledge to take advantage of Lance. I am not letting that happen to him.”

“I’m sorry, Keith,” said Shiro, placing a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “I know I sounded really insensitive. It’s just that... I think I know the guy Lance is in love with. And if I’m right, he’s equally head-over-heels for Lance.”

Keith’s eyes flew wide. “What?”

“Hunk. He told me just this afternoon.” Shiro smiled. “Hunk’s a really, really good guy. He would be the last person I know who would ever play around with someone’s feelings. In fact, he told me he thought of it as a date, too. And that he’s planning to ask Lance out.”

Keith looked down at his hands. “Huh,” was all he said in return. “This Hunk guy. You told me about him before. Isn’t he in grad school? And that really big company promised him a job right after he graduates?”

Shiro was surprised Keith remembered. “Yeah.”

“Then why…?”

Shiro looked at Keith. “People from different stations in life don’t tend to fall in love because they don’t have a chance to get to know one another. But when they do, they might get along more than they anticipated. Because all that other stuff doesn’t define who you are. You do.”

Keith fell silent for a long while. Shiro became aware that something in the air had shifted, and wondered if he had said too much. He felt, simultaneously, the urge to draw Keith close and to get up off the couch to create distance between them. But he stayed put. And if he found his arm brushing against Keith’s more often than it usually did, well, neither of them paid it any mind. 

 

-

 

Keith stayed that night. They didn’t have sex. They didn’t kiss even once, simply crawled into bed together wordlessly. Shiro, who was about to turn and wish Keith good night, didn’t get the chance, because Keith sidled up next to him and snuck his arms around Shiro’s waist. His heart began to beat faster than it did after recovering from an orgasm. 

“Good night,” he said, sounding very strained.

“Good night,” said Keith.


	8. Chapter 8

It happens at the worst of times. Like a wave, crashing into you, blindsiding you. You can never, no matter how hard you try, grow completely used to it.

He’s back in the thick of it all. The sound of explosions shattering his eardrums. The sharp tang of metal and blood and death. Around him, walls crumble, and people scream. He reloads his gun, and emerges from behind the corner. Matt in front of him, leading the way. He doesn’t see the shrapnel until the impact. Matt turns, halfway, mouth parted in a warning unheard above the explosion. Unthinking, Shiro reaches out his right arm. It doesn’t connect. Matt looks at him, expression forever carved in Shiro’s memory, before his body is blown apart. Before Shiro’s own arm is severed. 

In different versions of the dream, his last words are different. 

_ Watch out. _

_ Take care of my sister. _

_ Save me. _

_ It should’ve been you. _

A million last words, haunting him.

 

-

 

Shiro stirred in his sleep often. It was something Keith had noticed since the very first night. Keith figured he was probably just a restless sleeper. He uttered incomprehensible words sometimes but usually went quiet again after a few seconds. There were one or two times when his face scrunched in an unpleasant emotion. Those times Keith had stroked his hair as slowly and gently as he could, and it had seemed to work.

This time was of an entirely different caliber. It started out small, with little jerks of movement. Stroking his hair didn’t work, and it quickly worked its way up to limbs thrashing about, sweat beading on his forehead. Keith swallowed hard, taking deep breaths and reminding himself to stay calm. There had to be something more he could do for Shiro. He reached out for Shiro’s arm, attempting to hold it still, but Shiro cried out, the sound agonizing enough to tear right through Keith. 

“Shiro,” he said quietly, shakily. “Shiro, it’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you. Wake up.”

The attack, or whatever it was, didn’t stop or even fade. Shiro looked like he was in serious pain, body moving violently of its own accord. Keith’s chest clenched. He didn’t want to touch Shiro after what had just happened— but at this rate Shiro was going to fling himself off the bed. Keith did the only thing he could— he threw himself at Shiro, wrapping his arms around as tight as he could. “It’s okay,” he repeated, stroking the back of his head, rubbing small circles in his back until the muscles loosened. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

He stopped thrashing. Keith pulled away slightly to see Shiro’s eyes slowly swim into dazed focus. “Keith?”

“I’m here,” Keith said, trying to not let his voice tremble. “I’m here.”

Shiro held him tight, voice slurred with exhaustion. “Don’t go.”

He had never once asked Keith to stay. To know that, in his most vulnerable moment, this was what he wanted— Keith could feel the physical pain of his heart tearing in two.

Keith swallowed hard, held Shiro closer, and forced himself to lie. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

-

 

Shiro awoke to bright sunlight and the sound of his front door creaking shut at a rate ten times slower and quieter than usual. He found that he was clutching a pillow in his arms, so he put it aside, sat up and strained to hear the tiptoeing footsteps across the floorboards, the abrupt halt at a loud creak before scurrying onwards, still quietly. The rustle of a plastic bag being placed on the kitchen counter. Then the quiet footsteps began to approach his room, so he flopped back down and put his arms around the pillow again.

Keith tiptoed over, almost silently, and plucked the pillow out of Shiro’s grasp. Then, carefully, he crawled in bed under the covers and placed Shiro’s arm over his chest, then turned on his side and snaked an arm around Shiro, snuggling much closer than strictly necessary. Shiro felt his face grow a little hot. He could sense Keith watching him, was startled when he felt a gentle hand brush his bangs out of his face, and he felt rather than saw Keith’s smile.

He cracked an eye open, and caught a glimpse of it in all its beauty, the rare thing. “Good morning,” he said, voice rough, and Keith jumped back with a startled noise and nearly fell off the bed. His face turned a brilliant shade of red, and Shiro didn’t bother disguising his laughter.

“What the hell,” Keith said, with no real anger. “You were awake this whole time—”

“Did you get breakfast? Thanks, Keith.”

Keith wrinkled his nose. “You’re not getting any breakfast from me.”

“Don’t be mad,” Shiro said, reaching out and petting Keith’s hair automatically, indulging himself in the way Keith flushed even harder. “Thanks for being my personal body pillow, too.”

“It was— I just— you,” Keith stammered. “You wouldn’t let go of me, and when I tried to get you to let go you started breathing really hard and this was the only thing I could do to get you to calm down. You wouldn’t even let me go to the bathroom. I had to give you this pillow.”

“I’m sorry,” Shiro said. The events of last night came back to him like a douse of cold water. His face heated up and it took him a moment to recognize the feeling as shame— he was ashamed that Keith had to see him in that state. Emotional baggage was already a turn off, let alone mental illness. 

“Hey,” said Keith, softer. His smile was small, but genuine. “It’s alright. Come eat, okay?”

Shiro got dressed and headed over to the kitchen. He took his pills, eyeing the food on the counter. He wasn’t sure when Keith had discovered his favourite food. He’d even bought camomile tea, known for its soothing effects. It dawned on him that Keith wasn’t going to ask. Just like he had not asked about the scars or the arm. Shiro figured it was somewhere in the unwritten contract of their relationship: don’t ask, don’t tell. Figured, given the nature of Keith’s occupation and his own tendency to be guarded about his past. It was Keith’s way of being respectful about the issue. 

Still, he mused, chewing thoughtfully on the food, Keith had been kind enough to buy all this for him when he could barely even afford his own necessities. He probably deserved an explanation.

“I told you before, how I was in the military?”

Keith nodded gravely.

“I have PTSD.” He said it without looking at Keith. Just saying it made him feel small. “I saw a therapist for a while. I take my meds as often as I remember to. I try to avoid triggers. Still, it comes back when you don’t expect it.” 

Keith reached wordlessly for Shiro’s metal hand which lay on the table, resting his own, human one on top.

“I lost the arm in the same explosion that I lost my best friend.” 

Even with Pidge, the two of them had never spoken it aloud, not even on the first day they saw each other again. Exchanging only quiet hugs of comfort as she cried into his shoulder, too close to the armless stump. It hurt too much to talk about. 

He looked down at his cup of tea. “Matt and I knew each other since we were kids. That was how I met Pidge. She was his baby sister. She used to tag along when we played outside and get angry when we let her win. She was angry when we went to enlist and she couldn’t follow because she was still in high school. She wrote letters all the time, saying she couldn’t wait for us to get back. But when we did come back, it was only one of us. The wrong one.” His laugh was dry. He took a sip of tea. 

“I couldn’t face her. I kept thinking—” He broke off, then forced himself to speak. “I kept thinking it should’ve been me. I was right there, I reached for him, I could have saved him if I’d acted faster.” What he was about to say, he’d never said aloud before. His heart pounded. His chest squeezed. “You know, I was supposed to be the commanding officer, that day. But I’d hurt my leg, I couldn’t walk as quickly. It would’ve been me, at the front, bearing the first impact of that bomb. Instead it was Matt. I’ve never told this to anyone. Not even Pidge. It would crush her to know.”

There was pain in Keith’s eyes, raw and real as if it had happened to Keith himself. “It’s not your fault,” said Keith. “You didn’t make the decision to let Matt lead. You couldn’t have done anything in the instant the bomb went off. You had a split second. Anybody else would run and hide. But you reached out for him. You tried to save him.”

Shiro let out a breath and looked down at his arm. His favourite reminder he couldn’t get rid of. “Pidge made this arm for me, did you know that? She and Hunk engineered it together. She’s a real fighter.” 

Keith, still holding Shiro’s hand, squeezed. “Matt would be proud,” he said. And then he looked right into Shiro’s eyes, as if seeing right to his soul. “And I know he would be proud of you too.”

In the momentary silence, the glance they exchange held a thousand words. “It takes a lot to come back from something like that. To get out of bed every day. To live life like he’d want you to. But you’re doing it,” said Keith. “You’re a fighter.” There was a serious look in his eyes as he placed a hand, gentle but sure, over Shiro’s beating heart. “The proof is right here.” 

There are moments when he felt trapped in the dark. A constant feedback loop of regret, a room with no door. Shiro had his share of those. But occasionally, just when you’ve hit rock bottom, there are moments that erase all the other moments. Moments so delicate, so raw, and so hopeful, that even breathing feels like a disruption. All he could do was look at Keith’s eyes, the determined, protective fire in them, and see himself reflected back in them. The person that Keith thought— believed— was alive somewhere inside him. 

He wanted to be that person.

“Thank you,” said Shiro. “That means a lot to me.” Two years of self-hatred. Two years of fighting his demons, alone, keeping it quiet from the rest of the world. He didn’t think opening up would ever be necessary, that he’d be anything other than a burden. But there was something about Keith’s words, something about the way Keith looked at him, that eased his worries the way nothing had ever quite been able to before. He felt better than he had in ages.

“I’m going to tell Pidge,” said Shiro. “Someday soon.” When he was ready for it. “She deserves to know, even if she decides she never wants to see me again.” 

“She’s not going to,” Keith said, with absolute certainty. “Anybody would be lucky to have you in their life.” He seemed to hear his words for the first time after they left his mouth, and looked away, blushing. But he was still holding Shiro’s hand, and even though Shiro could not feel the warmth of Keith’s hand he could feel it blooming in his chest. Impulsively, he pulled Keith into a hug. This time Keith didn’t hesitate before wrapping his arms around Shiro.

“I’m sorry I called your arm a sex toy before,” said Keith after a long moment. 

“That’s okay, I really don’t mind,” said Shiro with an amused chuckle. “I’m sorry I grabbed onto you in my sleep and didn’t let you go pee.” 

Keith laughed, sound bubbly and warm. He nuzzled the crook of Shiro’s neck, and Shiro was suddenly aware of the rapid  _ thump thump thump  _ of his heart, right where Keith could feel it. “Call it even?”

“I think mine was a little worse,” said Shiro.

“Hm. Make it up to me.”

“With my sex toy arm?” 

Keith’s snort of laughter, muffled in Shiro’s shoulder, had his heart soaring. 


	9. Chapter 9

As it turned out, Keith was what Shiro needed to kick his ass back into gear. He cut back on the cup noodles. Picked up the whole healthy living act with actual dedication, digging his gym membership card out of the bottom of his drawer. 

Shiro finished packing his boxing gloves into his gym bag and headed out of his room to see Keith on the couch wearing a tank top and one of Shiro’s hoodies, one sleeve hanging loosely off his shoulder, in grave danger of falling off. He had a leg tucked under him and the other stretched out. He had been engrossed in one of Shiro’s math textbooks for the better half of the last hour.

Shiro spoke up. “You ever think about going to school?”

Keith looked at him as if he’d sprouted two heads. “No,” he answered carefully. “I haven’t. Not since I dropped out of college in my first week.” As if that sufficed as an explanation. 

“You could do it, if you wanted to,” said Shiro. You didn’t just read textbooks out of boredom— they were the kind of thing you read to fall asleep, if you weren’t interested. “I’ve taught a lot of students. You’ve got a singleminded drive that most people don’t have.” He smiled. “I’ve got money I could loan you, at an interest rate of zero percent. Better deal than most banks, I’d say.” 

Keith was still regarding him with that strange look. Like some sort of wild animal who had never been approached by a human, gauging its degree of danger. “I can see why you’re not a businessman,” he said finally. Then he nodded curiously at Shiro’s gym bag slung over his shoulder. “Where you going?”

“Boxing,” said Shiro simply. “There’s a gym two blocks away. Want to come?” 

They’d never really gone anywhere together. They’d always hung out at Shiro’s place. Keith pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Sure,” he said, shrugging his hoodie back onto his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

 

-

 

It was easy to ground himself in physical movements. The pounding of his heart in his ears set a pleasant rhythm. The presence of a sparring partner was even more pleasant, particularly one that was nearly an even match for him. Keith blocked and countered his every punch much too skillfully for a novice.

Shiro threw a left hook. “You’ve done this before.”

“Used to,” Keith answered, swiftly deflecting Shiro’s hit. “I was in one of those programs for underprivileged youths so they would learn some self-discipline and not grow up to be criminals. As you can see—” a mean kick to Shiro’s stomach that Shiro barely was able to step away from— “that didn’t work out too well.”

“You’re not a criminal,” said Shiro. “You’re just doing what you have to do to survive.”

Keith hesitated for the briefest moment, wearing a look he often wore around Shiro lately, something a little less pronounced than surprise but unguarded nonetheless. Shiro took advantage of his hesitation to hook a leg around Keith’s ankle, reach for his waist and fling Keith over his shoulder onto the floor. Making sure he landed lightly, of course. Then he pinned Keith down with the weight of his body so he couldn’t get up.

Keith was breathless as he looked up at Shiro. They’d been in this position many times before, and Shiro’s thoughts immediately went down the gutter. Keith’s did, too, judging by the growing hardness pressed to Shiro’s hip. Sweaty and panting, he looked up at Shiro like he wanted Shiro to devour him.

“My win this time,” said Shiro, clipped. 

In lieu of a reply, Keith rolled his hips up deliberately. Shiro quickly picked himself up off of Keith, who sat up, content. 

“Let’s go back to my place?” Shiro had tried for a casual tone, but the long, drawn-out smirk across Keith’s face said otherwise. 

“Why wait?” His voice was low and quiet. “There’s a shower room.”

“You’re filthy,” said Shiro, tinged with only a little admiration.

“That’s why I need a shower.”

“If we get caught I’d get banned from the gym. They’d keep my membership fee.”

“I’ll be quiet.” Keith smirked. “I can’t make any promises about _ you _ , though.”

Shiro sucked Keith off first, milking him dry after he came, eating up the strained little noises he bit into the back of his hand, the way his legs threatened to give out. Then Keith got on his knees and sucked Shiro’s cock, swirling his tongue lazily over the head of it, and letting Shiro come on his face. Shiro half wished he had something to take a picture with before the water washed it away.

Dinner was mac and cheese with a salad. Keith’s cooking skills were objectively nothing to boast about. Having someone to cook for you, however, was. With full stomachs and feeling the pleasant soreness of physical exertion in their muscles they went to bed early, cuddled close, and listened to the quiet. Shiro had come to learn that Keith talked a lot because he had to, because it was his job to reel people in with his wit and his words. But once that layer had fallen away he spoke less, was content in silence or in expressing his emotions through touch. He was always reaching to touch Shiro, curling up next to him, pressing soft kisses to his neck or just playing with his hair. At first it was as if he needed, subconsciously, to confirm Shiro’s existence. But slowly it just became indulgence. He enjoyed the intimacy, was a tactile person by nature like Shiro himself. It seemed he could never get enough, which was good. Neither could Shiro. He liked it when Keith’s hair smelled like Shiro’s strawberry shampoo. He liked it when Keith let out tiny soft snores and awoke with pillow prints on his cheek. He liked it when everything felt perfectly in place. 

He didn’t like it when the buzzing of Keith’s phone woke him up. He didn’t like the hard look in Keith’s eyes when he read the message, the stiff but resigned way he got out of bed and clothed himself. “Thanks for today, but I’ve got to run,” he said quietly, and Shiro didn’t have to ask to know that when he came by again that day—  _ if  _ he came by— he would be smelling like another man, foreign marks lined up messily along his shoulder.

Shiro didn’t have a monopoly on Keith. The truth was a bruise that was always present, but hurt only when you prodded at it. He should have grown used to it by now. Time healed all wounds, they said. 

Why was it that the more they grew closer, the more it hurt?


	10. Chapter 10

Keith’s mouth was hot against Shiro’s, hands buried in his hair. The scent of expensive cologne in the air was almost overpowering. It had been too many days since he had seen Keith last.

He slid his hands down Keith’s slender waist, the glorious patch of skin between the hem of his shirt and the hem of his pants. Shiro’s thumb brushed against something that felt like lace. He looked down. Panties. One of the few turn ons he didn’t recall telling Keith about. He smiled faintly. “How’d you know?”

In an instant the atmosphere grew cold. Keith stilled and looked away. “I didn’t,” he said, too stiffly. He jerked away. “I need to go shower.”

He could still smell the cologne. Keith never wore cologne.

“I’m sorry,” said Shiro. He didn’t know what else to say.

“No,” said Keith. There were tired lines under his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Shiro rested a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t need to apologize. I’m the one who assumed.”

“Anybody would make that assumption,” said Keith. He pushed Shiro’s hand away. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this.” 

“Neither should you.”

It just came out. He thought about it often enough at work, twirling his pen in his hand, looking out the window. He thought about it at home, with Keith on the couch nose deep in one of Shiro’s books. He thought about Keith working at a bookstore. A car repair shop. A café. McDonald’s, for God’s sake. Anywhere was better. Anywhere was better than this. 

“I don’t have a choice,” Keith said, words too harsh, too cold. What looked like anger flared in his eyes, but Shiro could see the underlying layer of pain. He looked away, ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to talk about this. I just— I’m going to go shower.”

He shut the bathroom door, leaving Shiro alone with his thoughts. He had never asked about Keith’s life, but that didn’t mean he didn’t ache to know. To know when Keith began doing this. What life was like for him before. If he had a family. 

It was easy to guess the answer. 

It felt like forever before Keith emerged from the shower. He had blow dried his hair, but it was still wet at the tips, fluffy and cute. Shiro strode up to Keith, holding his gaze. He curled a hand in Keith’s hair, and dipped his head down, catching Keith’s lips in a gentle kiss. 

Keith let out a soft, helpless noise as he deepened the kiss, holding Shiro’s face in his hands. Shiro stepped close so their bodies were pressed together. Keith’s shirtless torso dampened the fabric of Shiro’s shirt. Shiro ran his hands up and down Keith’s back, relishing the warm, smooth skin. He led the two of them back toward the bed, tipping Keith gently back so that he lay on his back on top of the sheets. Shiro looked at Keith’s body. At the small marks littered along Keith’s hip. Marks of one-sided passion, possession, objectification. Keith was wearing his boxers, the silk panties from before lying in the trash somewhere. He was looking somewhere just past Shiro.

“I can put on a shirt,” he said. “So you don’t have to see them.”

Shiro bent down so his face was level with Keith’s waist, and pressed his lips to each mark, careful and gentle. He could feel Keith holding back a shudder, tightening his hold in the sheets. 

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” said Keith breathlessly. 

Shiro moved his attention to the light finger-shaped bruises on his thigh. Pushing aside the staccato of pain in his own chest, he pressed gentle kisses to each. Keith let out the smallest of moans. 

“Does this hurt?”

“No.” Keith’s voice was shaky.

Shiro kissed along the inside of Keith’s thighs where he was sensitive, making him squirm, then down his calves and to his ankles. He held Keith’s right foot in his hand and pressed his lips to the top. Keith made a noise of disbelief and covered his face with a hand. 

“Hey,” Shiro said, crawling back up the bed. He tugged Keith’s hand aside. Keith’s face was a gorgeous shade of pink, eyelashes fluttering as he looked everywhere but at Shiro. “Hey,” Shiro tried again, and Keith’s eyes darted toward his, hesitant, shy. 

“You’re beautiful,” said Shiro, and kissed him on the lips, holding him still when he tried to turn away. Smiling, finally, when Keith gave in and kissed back, making these soft little noises Shiro could never quite get enough of. And when he felt Shiro’s smile Keith began to smile too, just a little. 

Mission accomplished, Shiro rolled over on his side, arms wrapped loosely around Keith. Keith held him close the same way. 

“I’m— not yours,” said Keith. “I can’t be yours.” The way he said it was uncharacteristically quiet, apologetic. As if resigned to a truth, aware of how it made Shiro feel, and unable to do anything to fix it. 

“I know,” said Shiro, not letting him go. Because he did know. Because, although the hurt pushed tenderly at his chest, he could only respect Keith’s wishes.

“If you ever…” Keith swallowed, breath shaky. Hands still wrapped around Shiro’s back, he said, “If you ever want something more, I’m not going to be angry. I’m not going to stop you. You deserve to have whatever you want.”

Shiro pulled Keith closer with no hesitation. “I’ve got it right here.”

Keith laughed. It was watery, but his eyes were dry. He wasn’t looking at Shiro, instead at the small spot of fabric between his and Shiro’s bodies. “Shut up,” he said, but he didn’t try to move away. 

He fell asleep, shortly after that. Shiro didn’t.


	11. Chapter 11

Shiro found out about the conference via email one December night as he was working on a paper in his study room. He couldn’t miss it. It was critical to his research. It would also be a week long and he’d get home on Christmas Eve, meaning he wouldn’t have time to fly to Japan and spend it with his parents, even though they had been calling him every day to subtly suggest the possibility. They worried for him ever since he returned without an arm and without his best friend. They had stayed here with him for a while, but they had jobs back in Japan they couldn’t leave. His mother still had a way of seeing lines under his eyes that barely existed, figuring out that his diet was lacking even without him saying anything. 

“I need to entrust you with an important responsibility,” said Shiro to Keith that evening.

Keith stood up a little straighter. “Go for it.”

Shiro grinned. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

Keith grinned, too, catching on to the fact that there was some sort of charade. “Bring it, Shirogane.”

“I’m going to be away for a week at a conference. So I need you to come here every day and water my plants.”

Keith chuckled with a bit of relief. “That I can do.” 

“No, you don’t understand. This is serious. Keith, if I don’t make it out of there, I need you to give these plants a good home. I need you to raise them the way you would your very own.”

Keith laughed, eyes crinkling. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. But okay. I’ll be the godfather of your plants. Happy?”

“Very,” said Shiro, pressing his lips to Keith’s forehead. He was grateful that his face only began to burn after he had walked away.

 

-

 

_ text me when ur almost here _

It was the first message on Shiro’s phone when he landed back home and got Wi-Fi again. He’d messaged Keith to say his flight would be delayed, but hadn’t expected a response. Keith didn’t really text often so this was a pleasant surprise. 

Shiro looked out the window to see that there was only darkness, and sighed. They were supposed to land at eleven in the morning, but the flight was seven hours late. It wasn’t too bad for Shiro aside from the insomnia. It was worse for Ulaz, who actually had a family of his own, and would be late for the Christmas Eve dinner that was waiting for him. But Ulaz just patted Shiro on the back. “Our flight was delayed in September, too, wasn’t it?” He sighed. “Here’s hoping that the third time’s the charm.”

“Yeah,” agreed Shiro. “I’m glad you were here with me, though. It’s always nice to have a friendly face from the university.” He let go of his suitcase and shook Ulaz’s hand.

“Likewise, Shirogane.”

“Just Shiro is fine.”

Ulaz looked past him, at someone who was waving. Shiro vaguely recognized the man as Thace. “My husband’s here to pick me up,” said Ulaz. “I’ll be heading off now. Do you need a ride back?”

Shiro thought about the last time he had tried to bus home from the airport. He hadn’t wanted to inconvenience anyone, but he had ended up being picked up by Allura in the end, so. He’d take the easy way this time. “That would actually be great, thank you.”

He sat in the back, half-listening to Ulaz and Thace chatting animatedly. It was hard not to feel like an intruder with way the two of them exchanged heartfelt, wordless glances, casual shoulder touches that showed off the glistening wedding rings on their fingers. 

_ Be there in half an hour,  _ he texted Keith. Keith was waiting for Shiro at home, too. But it was completely different. Temporary. He couldn’t even allow himself to dream of something more. He watched the stars through the window, thinking that no matter how brightly they burned, they would all collapse someday.

 

-

 

Shiro was ready to collapse into bed. Except there was only one problem. The bed was occupied. By Keith, wearing nothing but one of Shiro’s white collar shirts and red silk panties.

There were two problems now. One was growing in Shiro’s pants.

“Welcome back,” said Keith, shifting on the bed. “I watered your plants. None of them died.”

“I’m glad,” said Shiro. He got on the bed, one knee first, then the other. He cupped Keith’s face in his hands and kissed him, long and hard and deep, grinding their clothed crotches together. Keith keened, kissing back messily, as if deeply distracted. Shiro reached down, between his ass cheeks, and his lips curled into a surprised smile when he found a flared base of plastic already occupying his intended destination.

“Really,” said Shiro. 

Keith’s laugh, though Shiro could tell he had aimed for mischievous, skirted the edge of desperation. “Wanted to get myself ready for you,” he said breathily. “’S not enough. Nothing feels as good as your thick cock, filling me up.”

The desire to rip the panties off and bury himself to the hilt inside of Keith was overpowering. He fought it. Instead, he thumbed slowly along the inside of Keith’s thighs, drawing harsh, hurried breaths and soft quivers. He moved his touch to the bulge and the wet spot at the front of the panties that had already been there, but was now growing. Circling his hand around the outline of Keith’s cock, he gave it a few slow strokes, satisfied when Keith moaned and jerked his hips up. 

“You did this all for me,” said Shiro. “You’re so… you’re so good for me, look at you.” He dipped a finger beneath the fabric, trailed it around the base of the buttplug, feeling Keith’s muscles contract. He pulled it out just barely and thrust it back in, slow motions, over and over. Barely enough. Keith fisted his hands in the sheets.

“Hurry,” he pleaded, eyelashes wet against his cheeks. “Shiro, I want—” He reached out and palmed Shiro’s cock through the fabric of his pants, fingers making a grabbing motion just short of his zipper, already uncoordinated. “Want your cock inside me,  _ please.” _

Shiro had never been good at resisting Keith. He freed himself of his clothing, grabbed the lube, began to spread it over his cock. Keith reached out with slender fingers, wrapping them around his girth, moaning as he stroked. 

Relief and desire simultaneously punched Shiro in the gut when he pushed the panties aside and slid inside Keith. “You’re perfect,” Shiro breathed, sounding more vulnerable than he would have liked. But he was past caring. Keith whimpered and dug his heels into Shiro’s back, ducking his head down. Shiro coaxed him back up for a kiss, pushing inside Keith even deeper, tearing breathless noises from him that he only soothed with kisses. He brushed Keith’s hair out of his face, trailed his hand down Keith’s neck, brushed over the jagged scar on his shoulder mostly by accident and was surprised when Keith melted at the touch, a desperate, oversensitive cry escaping his lips. When Shiro leaned down and ghosted his lips over the skin there he came instantly, folding in on himself, shooting white all over his own stomach. Shiro triumphantly catalogued the sensitive spot in his mind for later. 

Coming down from his high, Keith caught hurried, shuddering breaths, chest heaving, with Shiro still inside him.

“Keep going,” Keith whined, trying to keep fucking himself on Shiro’s cock. “Come on— move.”

Shiro’s hips jolted forward of their own accord. “Keith,” he said dizzily. 

“Come inside me, come on.” He was babbling now.  _ “Please,  _ I need it.”

_ “Keith,”  _ said Shiro brokenly as he lost himself to the tight heat around him, groaning as he spilled his load inside. He pulled out, breathing hard, patting Keith’s hip apologetically when Keith whimpered. The panties were ruined, soaked with both their come now. He kissed Keith, soft and deep, curling his fingers in Keith’s hair, for a long time. 

When they parted it was to breathe, foreheads still pressed together, smiling lazily at one another. Shiro hadn’t known about the scar on Keith’s shoulder, hadn’t guessed it would elicit that kind of response. The discovery was private in a new sort of way.

“Merry early Christmas,” said Keith. “You got your present. Don’t expect anything under the tree.”

“I don’t know,” said Shiro. “There wasn’t a lot of effort put into wrapping it. Should’ve tied a red ribbon around—”

“Fuck off,” said Keith affectionately. He dabbed carelessly at the mess on his stomach, ignored the mess pooling around his thighs, and yawned. Because yawning was a contagious act, Shiro yawned, too. And then found that he couldn’t open his eyes because they felt like lead. 

Keith patted him on the chest. “Go to sleep, Shiro,” he said softly.

“I have to…” Shiro mumbled. “Give you your… present.”

The bed vibrated with Keith’s laugh. “This counts, alright? Now go to sleep,” Shiro thought he heard before drifting off.

 

-

 

Shiro woke up again five minutes before midnight, according to the clock, and sat up straight almost instantly. “T-minus five minutes,” he said, bright-eyed. 

Keith gave him a shove. “Go back to sleep. Aren’t you tired?”

“But Christmas.”

Keith propped himself up on one elbow. He was smiling. “Look at you all excited. I don’t know how to break it to you that Santa’s not real.”

Shiro gasped, clutching his chest. “He’s not?”

Keith laughed, eyes crinkling. “Shiro, you already got your present. I don’t even know what you’re all happy about.”

“I have to give you  _ your  _ present,” Shiro insisted. “Come on. If we start walking now, we’ll get there right at midnight.”

He dressed them both, forced Keith out of bed, put a winter coat on him, and circled a hand around Keith’s smaller wrist. He led Keith out the door, down the stairs, and into the underground parking lot.

Keith’s reaction to the sight of it was a frighteningly long, stunned silence.

“It’s not much,” Shiro said, suddenly feeling shy.

“Nothing much?” Keith whirled on him accusingly. “ _ Nothing much? _ Shiro, this is a fucking  _ motorcycle.  _ I can’t take this!”

“It’s not new. I’ve had it for years,” Shiro said truthfully. Though he left out the part where he had brought it to the shop to get it repaired and repainted for Keith. “But I can’t use it anymore. I can’t drive, because I never know when I’m going to have a panic attack, and I don’t want to put anyone in danger. So it’s just been sitting there. You’ll be doing me a favour if you take it off my hands.”

Keith was still staring at the motorcycle with reverence. It was a beautiful red creature, its sleekness accented by the moonlight. It suited him. “Shiro,” Keith said in awe. “This is just— I don’t know how to thank you.”

Shiro cocked a smile, picked up the two helmets hanging from the handlebars, and tossed one to Keith. “Take me for a ride.”

 

-

 

“You’re a surprisingly good driver,” yelled Shiro into the wind. 

Keith said something he couldn’t hear. 

“What?” said Shiro.

“I said,” shouted Keith. “Why did you give me a motorcycle if you didn’t know whether I could drive one?”

“I don’t know,” Shiro yelled back. “You just look like you can.”

“You’re lucky I used to be a pizza delivery boy,” Keith yelled. 

“Left, left!” Shiro cut in. “Turn left!”

Keith veered sharply left, a dangerous move they barely survived. He had a great handle on the vehicle, for sure. Just very little regard for his own safety. Shiro’s heart pounded with adrenaline, and he felt like a teenager again.

“Sorry,” Keith called out. 

“Actually that was kind of cool,” Shiro yelled in response, tightening his hold on Keith.

 

-

 

Not a single person was out on campus when they arrived. It was twelve thirty a.m. on Christmas Day, after all. The cold air tasted fresh but stung Shiro’s cheeks a little. 

They took seven flights of stairs. And a short detour, of course, to sneak into the storage room and grab the telescope. Shiro had a cumbersome time carrying the thing and eventually passed it on to Keith, who was surprisingly strong. The two of them were breathless when they reached the rooftop. 

The deep velvet of the sky stretched out to infinity, dotted with twinkling specks of light, illuminating the vast slopes and structures of the landscape down below. “Wow,” said Keith, reaching an open hand up to the sky. The pure, unadulterated awe in his eyes was magnetic. 

“When I was a kid,” said Shiro, “I wanted to be an astronaut. I always wanted to be the first to land on Mars. To explore the unknown. Make interplanetary alliances with friendly aliens.” He smiled. “I guess my dream sort of came true. I can’t go into space, but I learn as much as I can about it, here on Earth.”

“I wanted to be an astronaut too,” said Keith. This took Shiro by surprise. “Although my motive was a lot less noble than yours. Space was cool. But mostly I just wanted to get away from people.”

Shiro chuckled. “There are other ways to get away from people.”

“Yeah, well, that was my method of choice.” He looked up at the sky, expression tranquil. “I used to do this a lot when I was a kid. Go up to my rooftop and just look at the stars. It was the only thing that stayed the same no matter where they moved me to. No matter what kind of family they put me in. Sometimes I’d look up and pick a star and pretend it was my mom. Sometimes I’d look around and wonder if my dad was up there too. Or still on Earth drinking away his problems with some other woman. Given that the last Christmas I ever had with him he nearly bashed my head in with a bottle, I’d say the latter. They took me away after that. Never had a Christmas with the same family again.”

Keith had grown up in foster care. It made a hell of a lot of sense. Every mannerism, every idiosyncrasy suddenly fell into place. Shiro wished he had known sooner. But there was something different about asking somebody, and having them open up to you on their own. He rested a hand on Keith’s shoulder.

“There’ll be better ones,” he said. He knew it. He knew good things were in store for Keith’s future. Keith had powered through despite everything. 

Keith smiled. “Want to look at stars?” 

Shiro nodded and gestured to the telescope. Keith stepped over and put his eye to it.

“Holy shit,” he said in awe. “This is incredible.”

Shiro smiled. “On-the-job perks.” He let Keith watch in silence, spinning the telescope around, making noises of surprise and admiration. Eventually Keith’s attention turned back to Shiro. “Let’s just look at them from afar. I like looking at them with you better. You can tell me all the science and stuff behind them.”

So they sat down, and Shiro gave a condensed little lecture on the basics. When he finished he looked over at Keith, who was still looking up at the sky attentively. In that moment it felt as if the starlight existed simply to cast a glow on him, as if the light breeze was made to caress his hair. Shiro had always felt that space was infinite and humans were small. He never knew the world could be so small narrowed down to one person, and that the space between his hand and Keith's could be so infinite.

The realization did not strike, as epiphanies tend to do. Instead, the knowledge weaved its way, soft and sure, through the space between his ribs and curled itself there, made a home there. Shiro smiled. For how long, he wondered, had he been fighting the gravitational pull of a planet around the sun? For how long had he been in love with Keith?


	12. Chapter 12

“Altea University’s 21st Annual Awards Gala,” Keith read over Shiro’s shoulder. “Hm.” 

“We’re allowed to bring a plus one.” Shiro finished tearing open the envelope, and handed Keith the invitation. “You should come with me.”

Keith blinked. “Me?”

“Yes you,” Shiro said, leaning casually on the kitchen counter. “It’ll be nice. There’ll be free food and drinks. My friends will be there. Also, I’m on the receiving end of a few of the major awards.” 

Keith smirked. “Oh, I get it, Golden Boy. You just want to show off and impress me with your fancy awards.” 

Shiro laughed. “Sure, if that’s what’ll get you to come with me.”

Keith cracked a sideways smile that quickly faded away. “I can’t go. I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Not a valid reason,” Shiro said. “I have a closet.”

“You’re like twice my size. Sure that makes for some mind-blowing sex, but your sleeves go past my fingers.”

“Touché,” Shiro said. “But I also have a wallet.”

“I can’t make you pay for fancy clothes I’ll only wear once.”

“You’re not making me do anything. I’m asking you to come.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

 

-

 

“Does it look okay?”

_ Okay  _ was an understatement.  _ Okay  _ was like being swept up in a tsunami and saying you were enjoying a swim. It was near impossible to tear his eyes off of Keith. He looked absolutely breathtaking with his hair tied neatly back. The slim black suit and collar shirt accentuated the best features of his slender body, and his red bow tie was ever so slightly askew. Shiro wanted to fix it for him, but feared that if he touched Keith he’d want to kiss him and never let go. But they had a gala to go to.

“It looks good,” he said simply.

As they arrived, Shiro had a fleeting, childish thought that this was something like a date. It wasn’t the first time they’d hung out together. It wasn’t even the first time they’d gone out together. But it was the first time Shiro was helplessly aware that every knife-sharp smile Keith shot him felt like a direct hit to his heart. Now that he knew the reason, the feeling that had always been there was much more pronounced.

“Hey! Shiro!” 

He could see Hunk waving, jumping up and down from afar. Pidge, next to him, was bouncing excitedly, and Allura had her hands clasped together in a picture of elegant happiness. They didn’t wait for him to walk closer— instead they jogged towards him and swept him up into a group hug. Keith stood awkwardly off to the side, looking very interested in his shoes.

“Everybody, this is Keith,” said Shiro when they finally let him go. “Keith, this is everybody.”

“You could at least introduce us by name,” said Allura. She smiled and extended a hand to Keith. “I’m Allura. It’s very nice to meet you.” 

Keith blinked in surprise, but shook it. “Keith. It’s nice to meet you too.” 

Shiro smiled to himself at the warm expressions on Hunk’s and Pidge’s faces as they introduced themselves with friendly handshakes, the hesitant but genuine smile that Keith returned.

“So,” said Hunk, waggling his eyebrows. “Is he your…?”

“Friend,” said Shiro. He had never thought about labelling what they had between them, but now that he did nothing seemed to fit. He thought he’d play it safe, for fear of making Keith uncomfortable. Keith stiffened awkwardly next to him, but nodded. Before anyone could press further, a distant figure came running towards them, one Shiro recognized with mild surprise as he approached.

“Oh God, the lineup to the washroom was  _ so  _ long, I almost peed my pants—” Lance stopped in his tracks.  _ “Keith?  _ What the hell are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same,” Keith jabbed back. He looked at Lance, clad in a show-stealing blue suit, then at Hunk, who Lance was now standing  _ very  _ close to. “Ah,” said Keith simply.

Lance raised an eyebrow. He looked at Keith, then at Shiro. It took him longer to get there, but he eventually reached the same conclusion. “Ahhhhh,” he said. “No wonder you actually dressed nicely today. You didn’t pick out your own outfit.” 

Keith bristled. “The hell’s that supposed to mean? I dress myself just fine—”

“Uh Shiro, have you met Lance?” Hunk cut in nervously. “Lance, Shiro. Shiro, Lance.”

“Oh we’ve met,” said Lance. “Haven’t we, McNuggets?”

Shiro choked and turned it into a cough. 

“Kidding,” said Lance. “That offer’s expired.” He slipped his arm into Hunk’s.

“Great,” Pidge said. “I love heartwarming reunions where I have no idea what the hell’s going on. We should really go inside before all the seats are taken though. Last year I had to stand and let me tell you, that was  _ not  _ a good experience.”

“‘Cause you’re short,” Hunk whispered, and received an elbow to his gut. 

They found a large round table that seated all six of them, close enough to the stage that Shiro could walk up there and not trip over anything, or so Pidge helpfully pointed out. 

The presence of Lance, contrary to what Keith would have you believe, seemed to make Keith a little more relaxed. In no time the group had gotten passionately absorbed in conversation. 

“And, for the main course, I’m going to be making my signature pizza. Salmon, my special house sauce, pineapples, and all that jazz. I swear it sounds weird but it tastes  _ really  _ good.” Hunk beamed proudly. 

“Oh no,” said Pidge. “Here it comes.”

“Hunk,” said Lance. “Hunk, babe. We’ve been through this. Pineapple pizza is just not gonna fly. It’ll be your first time catering. You don’t want to offend people by serving them _ that_.”

“What’s wrong with pineapple pizza?” Keith said indignantly. 

“See?” Hunk gave Keith a look of newfound respect, and patted him hard on the back. “Keith here is a man of culture.” The look of surprise on Keith’s face was amusing. 

“Keith, my good man,” Lance said. “Pineapples are  _ fruits.  _ Fruits don’t belong on pizza. Fruits belong far, far away from the pizza family.”

“Tomatoes are fruits,” Keith replied. “They go on pizza.”

Lance gasped, horrified. “This is it. Keith, I am hereby disowning you.”

“Oh! The food’s ready,” Allura piped up, gesturing to the carts that had arrived and the fancy food items being placed on the centre tables. 

Pidge got up out of her chair to sneak a peek. “Shame. No pizza. Would’ve loved to see you guys fight to the death.” 

They all got up out of their seats at once, but Allura motioned them to sit back down. Silently, she jerked her head at the latecomers who were standing around, eyeing them desperately, hoping they would give up a seat. 

“You guys go. I’ll stay and watch the table,” said Keith. 

Shiro rested a hand on his arm. “You sure? The food’s going to be gone pretty fast.” 

Keith shrugged. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m not that hungry.” 

The rest of them lined up and grabbed their food. The desserts were already out, so Shiro grabbed a few extra pieces of chocolate cake for Keith, who he knew had a sweet tooth. Just in case they were gone later on.

When they returned to their seats, Keith left to get his share of food. Shiro watched him, thinking that the suit made his shoulders look broader than they usually did, and wanting just a little to tame the stray strand of hair sticking out from the back of his head. When he finally averted his gaze, four pairs of eyes were drilling holes into him.

“So,” said Hunk with a knowing smile. “How long have you guys been going out?”

Shiro nearly choked on his food. He washed it down with a sip of water. 

“We’re very happy for you, Shiro,” Allura said, patting his arm excitedly. She looked like she was barely holding back from giving him a bear hug. “He seems like a wonderful fellow.”

“He’s pretty cool,” Pidge agreed.

“He likes pineapple pizza,” said Hunk. “I say keep him.”

Lance looked conflicted when he realized it was his turn. Like he wanted to say something but knew this wasn’t the right time or place. Then the moment passed, and he smiled. “Hey, I’ve been living with the guy for over a year and I have no complaints. Don’t tell him I said that, though.” 

“We’re not going out,” Shiro said honestly. “I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. You’re right, though. He’s a great person and a great friend.” He looked over at Keith again, automatically, and then made himself look away.

“Are you  _ sure  _ you’re not dating?” Allura looked unconvinced. 

Hunk looked pensive. “Yeah, you know what, you’re right. There’s something about the way you look at him. Like instead of  _ I’m so lucky to have you _ it’s more like,  _ you’re going to disappear any minute now _ .” 

Shiro chuckled and tried not to blush. “You get all that from just a look?”

“You know you can ask us for advice too,” Hunk answered. “I mean— me and Lance got together thanks to you. I wouldn’t have had the guts otherwise. You’re always helping us out but we don’t really know what’s going on in  _ your  _ head, you know?” 

Shiro looked down and scratched the back of his neck. “Thanks, Hunk,” he said. “I really appreciate it.”

Keith returned to the table, and if he noticed the air had changed he said nothing. As Shiro predicted, they’d run out of chocolate cake and Keith’s plate was devoid of it.

“I saved you these,” said Shiro. He slid two of his own chocolate cakes onto Keith’s plate. 

Keith flashed him a smile. “Wow, thanks. My hero.”

Shiro cleared his throat to get the rest of the table to stop the obvious staring. 

They finished up their food, and then it was time for the awards ceremony. In the long list of names and faces who went up on stage Pidge and Hunk were announced first for outstanding research by graduate students. 

Allura claimed hers next, one for her new business venture and another for her philanthropy. Shiro himself received three awards for his research and teaching. He felt gratitude at the way his friends still beamed up at him. Though the awards were the same ones he had gotten the year before, they were no less proud.

After making his rounds of handshakes and casual conversations with professionals he knew, he made his way back to his friends. The night was young, and the celebratory dance was just beginning. Slow but upbeat music permeated the room, and guests began shuffling out of their chairs and onto the long-awaited dance floor. 

“Congrats, Golden Boy,” said Keith. He placed a hand on Shiro’s chest, and Shiro curled his fingers around Keith’s wrist. “I’m honoured to be in your presence.”

Shiro grinned. “It would be my honour,” he said, shifting his grip so that he held Keith’s hand in his, “to have this dance.”

Keith looked around, stunned. He shot Shiro a look of betrayal.

“You didn’t tell me there was a dance,” said Keith, red-faced. “I can’t dance.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll lead.” Shiro thumbed across the back of Keith's hand and smiled. “May I?”

Reluctantly, Keith nodded. Keith’s hand was warm in his. He intertwined their fingers and rested a hand on Keith’s waist. Keith slowly wound his arms around the back of Shiro’s neck. A light blush dusted his cheeks, his eyelashes fluttering as he looked shyly off to the side. 

_ I found a love for me _

_ Darling just dive right in _

_ And follow my lead _

There was a jolting pain in Shiro’s big toe. Keith lifted his foot hastily as if burned.

“Sorry,” he said hurriedly, backing away. Shiro pulled him close. 

“That’s okay, we’ll take it slow. Come on, follow me. One, two, three, four.”

It took several more toe injuries for Keith to get the hang of it. But when he did, when they began to move together in harmony, when Shiro saw the soft smile erase the tenseness of Keith’s features, he felt as if there could not be enough oxygen in the room.

_ Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song _

_ When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath _

_ But you heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight _

“You look good tonight,” said Shiro, barely a whisper.

“You’re just reciting lines from the song,” said Keith, but his cheeks were a delightful shade of red.

“No,” said Shiro. “I mean it.”

Before Shiro knew it he had leaned in. Their noses were a hair’s width from one another. Keith looked up at him, eyes wide with wonder. Shiro leaned in to close the distance between their lips, but at the last minute Keith moved away to rest his head on Shiro’s shoulder. He could feel Keith’s heartbeat against his chest. Or maybe it was his own. His heart ached. He had never known how it felt to hold someone in his arms and still have them be so out of reach. 

They broke apart eventually. He danced with Pidge, and, with Hunk’s permission, Lance, who was a complete natural. Shiro let him lead, amused at the sheer amount of times Lance tried to get him to twirl. Inevitably Allura approached him as well. 

“For old times’ sake,” she said.

She was as beautiful as she always was, hair done in a sophisticated updo, sapphire earrings bringing out her eyes. He had taken her to prom, back in high school. Their friends had set them up— the Good Samaritan poster boy and girl, competing for valedictorian, were, by their definition, perfect for one another. They hadn’t been perfect, but they had been good. He had been lucky to date her throughout most of university and up until his enlistment. A long distance relationship was a weight neither of them wanted. It was the most amicable breakup Shiro had ever experienced. He loved her, still did. But he had never been  _ in love  _ with her. His thoughts tiptoed over, continuously, to Keith, to the infinitesimally small space between their lips. Keith had ducked away.

As the night drew to a close, he danced with a few more acquaintances. Open bar was announced, and Shiro slipped through the crowd to the far end of it to grab a drink. And another. And another. He looked through the crowd and found Keith and Lance, whose faces were red, grins wide. Hunk and Pidge had joined them and Hunk was nearly doubled over with laughter.

There was a hand on his shoulder. 

“Shiro,” said Allura in her motherly-but-not-quite tone of voice. “What are you doing over here?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “What are  _ you  _ doing over here?”

Allura smiled. “Asking you to join us. Keith is looking for you.”

“Is he?”

“Come on,” said Allura, and hauled him over.

When Shiro arrived, Keith took a look at him, then took a look at Allura, and then took a long sip of his drink. He slammed it down on the table a little too forcefully.

“Are you sure he wanted to see me?” Shiro whispered to Allura.

“Oh don’t mind him,” Lance said flippantly. “He’s just jealous—”

“Of your  _ face, _ ” said Keith. His speech was a little slurred. He puffed out his chest proudly, as if this explanation made perfect sense. “It’s a nice face. Tell your parents they did a good job.”

Lance and Pidge clutched at each other, barely stifling their snorts of laughter. Shiro flushed. “Thanks,” he said.

“Okay, now get out.” Keith shooed him away with the flick of a hand. He turned back to the others. “What were we talking about?”

“Aliens,” said Pidge helpfully. “And whether they’re friendly.”

“I still think they’d try to take over our planet.” Hunk grimaced a little. “When the alien apocalypse comes— Keith, I want to be on your team.”

Keith raised a sluggish eyebrow. “Why, because I have Shiro?”

_ Oh my God, _ Lance mouthed incredulously, and then collapsed against Hunk, shaking with silent laughter. Even Allura was giggling. Shiro wasn’t sure what he felt more— the happiness bubbling up inside him, or the desire to crawl into a hole and never come out.

“Well,” Hunk said, trying desperately to muffle his chuckles against the back of his hand. “That too. But mostly your knife skills.”

“While you were being heterosexual,” said Keith, deadpan, “I studied the blade.” 

“I can’t,” Lance squeaked, gasping for air amidst the fit of laughter he had stopped trying to quell. “I can’t— I can’t do this anymore. Take him away Shiro, my stomach is going to  _ explode._”

_ “I’m not even heterosexual,”  _ Hunk exclaimed, pointing to Lance, who was still clinging to him.

Shiro turned to Keith, cupping his face in his hands. “Keith, sweetie. You’ve had a little too much,” he said gently. “I’m gonna take you home now, alright?”

“At least take me out to  _ dinner  _ first,” Keith said incredulously. “What do you think I am, a— oh, wait.” He sagged, defeated, against Shiro. 

“Sorry, guys, we’ll be on our way now.” Shiro said, giving the others a salute. They saluted him back grimly. The alcohol had affected Shiro too, but he was together enough to hail a cab, give the driver the address, and pay. All while deflecting Keith’s drunken hand that kept sliding treacherously up his chest.

As soon as they get home Shiro closed the door behind them.

“Thanks, Shiro,” Keith slurred, staggering sideways into Shiro’s arms. “I had a great time today.”

“Did you,” said Shiro, beaming.

“I did,” said Keith. “I used to think academics all had sticks up their asses. But your friends are cool.” 

“You’re telling me  _ they  _ were the ones to change your mind about academia? Not me?”

“Uh huh.” Shiro would be offended, had it not been apparent that Keith was barely listening and was instead smiling stupidly up at Shiro. He tilted his face up, standing on his tiptoes to press a kiss that landed just shy of the corner of Shiro’s mouth. “Huh,” he said, realizing he had missed his target, then adjusting his position so that now he was sloppily worrying Shiro’s lower lip between his own. “Wanna fuck,” he said, muffled.

Shiro broke away, laughing into the back of his hand. “You’re drunk,” he said, placing a hand on Keith’s shoulder gently.

“I am  _ not, _ ” Keith’s jaw jutted out as he let out a huff so exaggerated Shiro nearly collapsed with laughter. “What’s so  _ funny?” _

“Nothing, sweetheart,” Shiro said, trying very hard to compose himself. “Let’s just go to bed for the night, alright?”

“Don’t think,” Keith said, swaying dangerously as he jabbed a finger into Shiro’s chest. “Don’t think you can get away with anything just by calling me  _ sweetheart.  _ You think you can get me to bend over backwards just by calling me a pet name? That—” His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, then irritation. “That’s exactly what I wanna do. I wanna bend over for you but you won’t let me.”

His train of thought had, seemingly, lost any semblance of consistency and yet it was determinedly one-track minded. “Keith,” Shiro said with more intent. “If you really want to have sex, we can first thing tomorrow morning. Believe me when I say I want to as much as you do. I just don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“Stop being nice all the time,” said Keith, frustrated. “Why won’t you just— let me do something for you for once? I just— I just want to make you feel good the way you make me feel.”

“You do,” said Shiro blatantly. 

“I had a real good time tonight, you know?” Keith went on. “I haven’t had this much fun since I can remember. And that’s what pisses me off. You gave me this— this fancy suit, this motorcycle. Let me dance with you when all I did was step on your feet, and you give me all these things I never knew I could have but I—” His shoulders sagged. “I can’t give you anything.”

The atmosphere of the room shifted. Shiro reached a hand out. “Keith—”

“I can’t make you happy.” His voice grew smaller, and Shiro’s chest hurt. “I can give you my body because that’s all I’ve got. And even then I— I’m used goods.”

The words hurt so much Shiro couldn’t breathe. 

“Keith, what you do doesn’t matter to me.” A lie. His throat was tight. It did matter, but not in the way Keith thought it did. “I don’t care who you’ve been with. I like when it’s us. I like what we have.”

“You could have better.” Keith took a shaky breath. It occurred to Shiro that Keith knew he and Allura had a past. “You could have somebody who— somebody in your field, somebody whose life aligns with yours.”

“I don’t  _ want _ that,” said Shiro, clear. “I don’t have feelings for—”

“It’s not that.” Keith struggled to get the words out. “Shiro, you have a  _ future _ .” 

The words rang out, and somehow Shiro understood that he’d been thinking this for a long, long time. 

“You have a future,” said Keith. “I don’t. And I don’t have a place in yours.”

Shiro stepped forward. “You do,” he said. For Keith had carved one out for himself, could easily carve a place for himself anywhere with his fierce eyes and switchblade smile. It hurt, so much, that Keith didn’t understand how much he meant to Shiro.

Keith wouldn’t meet his eyes. He cupped Keith’s face gently with his hand. “Keith,” Shiro said, so soft, afraid his own voice would break. He took hold of Keith’s wrists, holding on tightly when Keith tried to break away. “Look at me.” 

“Don’t.”

“Keith, look at me. Please.” 

Keith’s eyes darted up to meet his, gaze bewildered.

“You’ve given me so much,” Shiro said, feeling as if his heart would burst. “More than you know. I can’t remember the last time I was this happy. This… comfortable, with anybody. I never thought I could experience something like this with someone like you.”

“Why do you always do that,” Keith said, sounding strained. As if torn between the desire to walk away and the desire to believe. “That thing where you look at me like— like I’m worth something.”

“You are,” said Shiro softly. 

“I don’t get it,” said Keith, angrily. “I’m giving you an out. Why aren’t you taking it?”

Shiro, in response, held Keith’s hand in his, intertwining their fingers together. “Because you don’t want me to take it.”

“Of course I don’t,” said Keith, deflating. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I just don’t understand why—”

“I love you.”

It slipped out, as unguarded and raw as the two of their hearts on the table, as fragile as the moment itself. Keith went still, and his eyes flew impossibly wide, and then began to water. He was holding himself taut, as if trying desperately not to tremble. Shiro took him into his arms.

“You’re shameless in bed but you can’t take compliments.” Shiro felt like he was ripping his chest open, baring its insides. “You sneak vegetables into my shopping cart. You step on my feet when we dance. You’re not scared of my arm. You remind me that I’m human. Everything—  _ everything, _ Keith, I will take all of it. So,” Shiro swallowed hard. “I want you to stay, if you’ll have me.”

Keith pressed closer to Shiro, holding him impossibly tight. 

“I never had a choice,” he said, and Shiro could hear the soft smile in his voice.


	13. Chapter 13

In a perfect world, everything would go smoothly after Shiro’s confession. Keith would confess right back. They would go out on dates. Shiro would finally take Keith out to dinner before getting him into bed. 

Theirs was not a perfect world.

Keith stopped coming over frequently. In fact, Shiro hardly saw him at all. When he did stop by they would come into contact for only a fleeting moment— a quick apologetic kiss on the cheek before he would head off again.  _ Sorry, I can’t. I work late tonight. _ He responded to texts even less frequently than usual. In the next month Shiro could count the number of times they shared a meal together on one hand.

Shiro reminded himself that Keith had a life outside of him, of them— but the thing was that he didn’t really. It used to be that outside of work he would drop by Shiro’s and they would waste the day away watching old movies, or shopping for groceries, or just cuddling. Now, even the small snippet of domesticity Shiro had clung to was gone. Just when he thought they might have progressed beyond something temporary. Just when he had felt that Keith, too, had found something like a home with Shiro.

Keith had never said  _ I love you  _ back.

He had read about this sort of thing before, in textbooks. Someone starved for intimacy, automatically latching on to the first person available. It occurred to him that perhaps Keith was only close to him because he was the only person who Keith had a sort of real relationship with. There was Lance, but Lance had Hunk. Keith had grown up having nobody. Shiro was somebody. Maybe he was  _ just  _ somebody that could’ve been anybody. Perhaps Keith mistook Shiro, the only person who could provide the intimacy Keith craved, to be someone he loved. And perhaps, prompted by Shiro’s confession, Keith had finally realized this.

The thought was a black hole opening up beneath him. It sucked him in slowly. At first it was a hypothesis he tried to disprove, but every time he sought a spark in Keith’s eyes Keith didn’t even notice, simply looked somewhere far away, eyes nearly falling shut. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He didn’t have to be here anymore. But Shiro had selfishly asked Keith to stay, and Keith, who had received his share of favours from Shiro, couldn’t deny Shiro this request. Shiro’s chest felt hollow.

They had ordered takeout. Shiro had ordered Keith’s favourite kimchi fried rice. Keith had hardly touched it. Shiro put down his chopsticks. The  _ clang _ against the plate resounded loudly in the silence, making Keith finally regard Shiro.

“Is something wrong?” Said so nonchalantly that Shiro could hurl. 

“No,” said Shiro. “Nothing is wrong. Do you remember what I said about owing favours?”

“You said I don’t have to worry about it,” said Keith. “Why, do you need a favour? You know if it’s you, I’ll do anything.” He smiled. 

Shiro did know. And that was the problem.

“Don’t come here anymore.”

The smile was wiped clean off of Keith’s face. “What?”

Shiro gripped the edge of the table. “Things change,” he said as flatly as he could. “Feelings change. Or maybe they weren’t there to begin with.”

Keith looked much more shellshocked than he had a right to be. “Shiro, what are you  _ talking _ about?”

“There’s nothing special about me,” said Shiro. “I’m a decent human being. You can find any one of us on the street.” 

“I’m decent at sex,” Keith countered. “You can find any one of us on the street provided you’re in the right side of town. You had no reason to fall for me but you did.” On the table, his hands clenched into fists. “I don’t get it. Are you trying to tell me you don’t  _ want  _ me to like you?”

“That isn’t the point,” said Shiro, emphatically. “The point is, I was nice to you. I treated you with respect. I let you stay in my home, which means I was a constant presence at a time when you didn’t have somebody like that. That’s something I’m never going to regret providing you with, but it’s also one of the only things I’ve got going for me. It’s not uncommon to latch on to the first person who’s in close proximity. If somebody else had been in my place, it could have been them.”

Any relief at having finally voiced his feelings was short-lived. Far from being understanding, or seeing the truth, Keith’s brow only furrowed into hard anger as he stood up, chair scraping painfully loud against the hard floor. “Shiro,  _ what the hell?” _

Shiro followed, standing up from his seat, still holding Keith’s gaze. “I know that I told you how I feel about you. But it’s fine if you don’t feel the same way. I don’t want you to feel like you owe it to me to stay here. You told me I have a future, but you have one, too. One brighter than mine. There are a lot of people out there who would be honoured to be a part of it. Don’t let me hold you back.”

The prolonged silence was painful.

“You don’t think I like you?” Keith’s voice was wrong, all wrong. His face twisted with dry, emotionless laughter. “You think that all that I ever said to you, all that I ever did for you, was out of what? A sense of obligation? You think that I would just  _ spread my legs _ for the first person who was  _ nice  _ to me?” His voice cracked, in the most awful way. “Is that what you think of me?”

Shiro’s clenched fists began to shake. “Keith. That’s not what I—”

“No, you listen to  _ me,  _ Shirogane.” It cut like a dagger. “If that’s what you think—” he was breathless— “then you really don’t know me at all.” His fists clenched so hard his knuckles were white. The anger in his eyes dissipated slowly, into a sad emptiness. “And maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s better that we don’t see each other anymore.”

It felt as if the ground had plummeted out from under Shiro. A gaping crevice between him and Keith. The room spun uncontrollably as Keith stepped away, and into their room, and shoved everything that he owned into the tiny little bag he had brought long ago. Shiro could only watch, helpless, as he walked out the door and slammed it shut without looking back. The sound rang one last time through the empty apartment, the only sign that Keith had once been there. 


	14. Chapter 14

Days, and then weeks passed. He felt as if he were trudging through water. The empty space on the other side of the bed felt like a mockery. The nightmares frequented. He called his doctor and upped his dosage of medication.

Their last conversation continued to play out in his head. Shiro wondered how it could have gone differently. Could he have salvaged their relationship if he had asked Keith to stay? Could he have saved it if he had never told Keith what he thought? 

That was what he thought about as he lay in bed at one in the morning, pathetically holding one of the shirts Keith left behind, recalling every happy moment they had ever had. The way Keith smiled with impossible tenderness. The way Keith held him through his nightmares. The way Keith looked at him sometimes when Shiro had just blearily blinked awake, like Keith couldn’t quite believe he was there. 

Shiro shot up when he heard the key turn in the lock, heard footsteps approach softly. 

“Keith,” he called out into the dark. 

The door creaked open. Hunk and Lance stood there, looking mildly disturbed but mostly sad. 

“He asked me to check on you,” said Hunk. “You know something’s wrong when your best friend won’t  _ tell  _ you something’s wrong and you find out from the guy who broke up with him.” 

“I’m sorry,” said Shiro.

Hunk sat on the bed and wrapped an arm around Shiro, patting his back soothingly. His voice was quiet. “No, I’m sorry. I know it really sucks. To think you’ve got no chance with someone you love because of your own insecurities.” He looked over at Lance briefly before looking back at Shiro. 

“My own insecurities,” Shiro echoed blankly.

“Yes,” said Hunk, exasperated. “Look, you gotta stop pretending like everything’s fine. That’s your biggest flaw. Now I don’t know everything that happened, but if I had to take a wild guess you probably told him to leave because you didn’t think you were good enough for him.”

Shiro laughed wryly. “You know me better than I know myself.”

“He likes you,” said Lance. He had been standing at the foot of the bed, but he sat down on the other side of Shiro. “He really,  _ really  _ likes you. I’d say the L-word but I think he’d want to save that for himself to say. And trust me. I live with him. He’s just as miserable as you. He even has one of your shirts and holds it like that. You guys are meant for each other.” Lance paused. “So what if you met because he was a hooker and you were a john? He stayed with you of his own free will. Think about all the stuff you guys did together. Most of it was probably stuff you’d only do with someone you were dating.”

They were right. Shiro knew it. He had let his own insecurities blind him. He had been too caught up in trying to do what he thought was right for Keith. He had forgotten how right things were, between the two of them. 

He had let Keith walk away.

“You’re right,” said Shiro. “Thank you. Really, I mean it. It means a lot to me that you guys came here. I shouldn’t have given him up. And I won’t.” 

He meant it. But before he could even try to get Keith back, Shiro needed to figure himself out first.

 

-

 

He called Pidge for the first time in months. She called often, after Shiro came home from the army to a lone apartment. So did Allura and Hunk, and each time Shiro pretended he was fine and made small talk. But this time, he called and told Pidge they needed to talk in person.

The entire time that he told her, it felt as if a stone were lodged in his throat. It would have been Matt. It easily could have been Matt. The truth was hard to swallow but she deserved to know. He wrung his hands. He looked at the floor and the wall and then, finally, at her. She smiled softly.

“I know,” she said. She reached out and gave his human hand a light pat. “One of the other guys who was with you in the army told me. He said it might help to be mad at you. He said sometimes when people die you just need somebody to blame.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“I thought I was at first. But really I was just mad at the world,” said Pidge. She looked a little sad, but at peace. “So no, I’m not. I know you would have risked your life for him if you had been able to. And I know Matt wouldn’t want me to blame you. And he wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.”

Shiro smiled. Pidge smiled back. It felt like the first genuine conversation the two of them had had in ages. All this time he thought that a charade of normality would fix things. She had thought so too. But this was what they needed.

“So does this mean you’ll start hanging out with us more?” said Pidge. 

“Of course,” said Shiro. “Next party Allura throws, just call me and I’ll be there.”

“And return to your keg stand days?"

Shiro chuckled sheepishly. “Let’s keep those in the past.”

“That might be a little hard when I still have the video proof,” Pidge teased, laughing when Shiro nudged her with his elbow.


	15. Chapter 15

The first few days after Keith left him he saw Keith everywhere. Out the corner of his eye. In the lecture hall. On the street. Right before he fell asleep. He knew that those weren’t real. This time, though, it was. 

He was outside, heading to his office after hitting the campus gym, when he caught sight of a head of messy black hair. Keith had cut it, just a little trim, without completely getting rid of what Lance called the “mullet” so that the short, fluffy hair at the nape of his neck stood up defiantly. He was talking to Hunk and Pidge and— Shiro was stunned to see Ezor, too. They all seemed to be laughing about something. Keith looked happier than he had in a while. Shiro had just turned to leave when Keith saw him. The group fell silent and scurried away, completely not subtle. 

“Hi,” said Shiro.

“Hey,” said Keith. “I just, uh. Came by to give you this.” He fumbled around in his pocket, and took out a shining, silver key, placing it in Shiro’s open palm. His fingertip was warm where it brushed against Shiro’s hand. Shiro closed his hand around the coldness of it. Keith turned to leave.

“Listen,” said Shiro. Keith turned back around and looked at him. “Are you free any time this week? I thought maybe we could catch up.”

“I can’t,” said Keith. “I’m really busy. And also I’m still kind of mad at you. But mostly busy.” He shot Shiro a crooked smile. “Take it easy, Shiro.” 

With that, he left, leaving Shiro’s head spinning. 

He didn’t see Keith again for another month after that. Before he knew it March had rolled around. Some of his students had approached him for advice on the upcoming competition but Ezor, surprisingly, hadn’t been among them. It was a shock when she approached him the day before finals to announce that she’d made it. 

“You’re going to come watch, right?” 

He nodded. “A few of my other students will be there, too. I place my bet on your team, though. You and Acxa make a formidable pair.”

“Oh, we’ve got other team members.” She giggled. “Anyway, thanks for everything, Shiro. You’d better be there!”

She wasn’t the only one to constantly remind him. Pidge, Hunk, and Allura all phoned him, separately, to ensure he would be attending. He didn’t quite get the big deal. He wasn’t even allowed to judge, since his students were participating. 

When the big night came, he dusted off the old suit he’d last worn to the awards gala and bit down the painful feeling of nostalgia. He wondered what Keith was doing tonight, and hoped against hope that it didn’t involve spending the night with another man. He wondered the whole way there, and his breath caught in his throat when his cab pulled into the parking lot and he saw a familiar red motorcycle.

The throng of people was nothing but a nuisance as he searched for a head of black hair. Which was exceedingly difficult because half the people present had a head of black hair. He spotted Hunk, Pidge, Allura, and even Lance, so that was something. 

“Come on!” Allura hissed, dragging him to their seat. 

The first team on stage was unfamiliar to him. The second was a group of his students. By the third, although he was definitely intrigued by their presentations, his mind was wandering. And when the fourth and last team took the stage he found his answer.

He should have clued in a long time ago, he realized, watching in a dreamlike daze as Keith stepped onto the stage, alongside Ezor and Acxa. He should have known when Keith showed up at his campus. He felt a little betrayed as it sank in that  _ everyone _ had known except him. But then Ezor tapped the mic, cleared her throat, and started talking.

The idea was simple. The machine came in two parts. The first was a small band you wore around the wrist. The second was a larger machine about the size of a hard drive. Equipped with a sensor, programmed to respond to an irregular heart rate and excessive motion. Stress, or nightmares, or panic attacks. In response, it would emit relaxing smells and sounds. An old memory punched Shiro in the chest as he looked at Keith. Keith  _ remembered _ — Keith was still thinking of him— had kept the memory of Shiro’s pain and taken it and changed it into something greater than Shiro could ever have thought. 

Shiro watched, speechless, as Keith took over and showed a demonstration. It was a prototype, rough at the edges, but anyone could see the sheer amount of effort that had been put into it, the attention to careful detail. Keith’s voice had a commanding, persuasive edge to it. He was a natural. Shiro’s chest swelled almost painfully. He had always known Keith had a bright future ahead of him. He just never figured that, when the time came, he would have the honour of playing a role in it. 

Nobody was surprised when their team won, least of all Shiro. He watched it all take place like a dream— Keith, Ezor, and Acxa taking the stage again, shoulders squared, clutching the trophy with pride, a battle hard fought and won. Two years’ worth of tuition,  _ each.  _ Ezor looked like she was going to float away and Acxa tugging her down was the only thing keeping her on the ground.

“Thank you so much for your presentation,” the host said, clearly impressed. “Would you like to say any last words? Any thank yous, dedications?” 

Ezor and Acxa looked knowingly at Keith, who stepped forward and cleared his throat.

“I want to thank someone,” he said quietly, as if intended to be private rather than a public declaration, “who believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. This one’s for you.”

Short, succinct. It was such a Keith thing to say, to do. Keith’s eyes met his for only the briefest of moments before he looked away, and the echoes of sincere applause began. 

He couldn’t find Keith after the ceremony. Naturally— there were probably companies fighting to speak to the trio of rookies with incredible potential. It took him a long time to find Ezor and Acxa— without Keith, for some odd reason.

“Congratulations, both of you.” Their grips were firm as they shook his hand, Ezor beaming from ear to ear, Acxa smiling in a more reserved manner.

“What goes around comes around,” said Ezor. “You helped me out a lot— you helped us all out a lot. It’s only fair that what we do goes back to you, Shiro. Well, not  _ just  _ you, but all the people in the same boat as you.”

“If you’re looking for him,” Acxa cut in, “he’s also looking for you. You might find him somewhere out back.”

Shiro chuckled. “I have to say, I’m not used to having my students play matchmaker. But thank you. Both of you.”

“Hey,” said Ezor, “sure you’re our prof, but before that you’re a person. And Shiro the guy is pretty damn cool.”

“You hear that?” 

Pidge and Hunk strolled casually over, and Ezor and Acxa disappeared into the crowd again. The two of them pulled Shiro into a group hug.

“Sorry we didn’t tell you,” said Hunk, scratching the back of his neck. “Keith told us to keep it a surprise.”

“I see how it is. He’s your new best friend. You’re all real tight with each other now. If I don’t watch out I’ll be kicked out of the club.” 

“Yeah, basically,” Pidge joked. “Okay seriously though. You were kind of an idiot.”

“He told you everything?”

“No, we grilled him.” Pidge crossed her arms and sighed. “He was working his ass off. That’s why he didn’t have time to hang out with you. He’s not going to tell you how many all-nighters he pulled, but it’s a hell of a lot.” 

“I know,” said Shiro. “I’ve got to talk to him.” Before the guilt ate him alive.

Hunk gave him a fond smile. “If you look at him with those puppy eyes there’s no way he can stay mad.” 

“Puppy eyes?”

“Don’t mind it,” Pidge laughed. “He’s out back. Go find him.” 

With a pat on his shoulder each, Pidge and Hunk went along on their way.

Shiro finally caught a glimpse of Keith as he was about to head outside. Shiro followed him out the side door into the chilly night air. 

When Keith turned around to face him, Shiro pulled Keith into his arms.

“I’m so proud of you, Keith,” he said, earnestly. Keith, who had for a brief moment stiffened in surprise, relaxed in Shiro’s arms, and Shiro’s heart knocked against his ribcage, demanding to make itself known. “That was amazing.  _ You _ are amazing.”

He pulled away, a hand lingering on Keith’s shoulder for one more moment before he let it fall away. 

“Shiro—”

“Keith—”

They spoke over one another at the same time, and both shook their heads, smiling softly. 

“You go ahead,” said Keith. 

“I know this is long overdue.” Shiro wrung his hands together. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I’m not the one who gets to decide how you feel about me. I know you, Keith. I  _ trust  _ you. And I was an idiot to let you walk away. You told me once that the world would be a better place if good guys like me stopped pretending to be good.” 

Keith cracked a smile.

“I know what you mean now. I spend all of my time trying to do right by everybody else because I don’t want to face the skeletons in my closet. But that’s not who I really am.”

“You were right,” said Keith. “I didn’t really have anybody or anything to my name, and you were the first person to reach out to me. I thought about it for a long time. You’re always trying to do the right thing. Because it’s who you are. But also because you feel like you have to. It pisses me off. I don’t want you to do the right thing— I just want  _ you. _ ”

Shiro didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until it came out in a silent sigh.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you earlier,” said Keith, quiet and low. “About me going to school, doing all this behind your back. I wanted to show you that I would still feel the same way about you when I’m in a better place. When I have other people in my life.” He took a breath. “I want to be the person you believe in, Shiro—  _ Takashi. _ ” 

His eyes darted away as his body tried to withdraw in on itself. But he squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and inhaled shakily. He looked terrified, like a man about to climb the highest mountain of his life, but Keith had never backed down in the face of a challenge. 

“I love you.”

The words were shaky with the weight of all the emotion they held. Shiro looked at Keith, the little crinkle in his brow, the determined fire in his eyes burning brighter than any star. Keith, who was honest. Keith, who felt everything with his entire being, who was all in or nothing. It was moments like these when Shiro would forget to breathe. He knew now what they had both tried so hard to fight before— he knew that they could not imagine a life without one another.  And so he took a deep breath, and committed the most important, most selfish act of his life. His chest was light as he curved the palm of his hand around Keith’s jaw, and kissed him.

Countless times they had kissed, in the buildup of a moment, in the heat of passion. This was nothing like that. This was absolute in its sincerity, raw and tender. There was nothing more behind the kiss, and nothing less, than unbridled affection.

“I love you too,” Shiro whispered into the small space between them. “More than anything I have ever loved in my life.” 

Keith’s eyes watered, his shoulders taut with the overflowing of relief. Shiro took Keith’s hand into his, trying to soothe the trembling, and kissed the back of it. 

“Will you come home with me?”

Without a moment of hesitation, Keith stepped forward, pulling Shiro into his arms and pressing his face to the crook of Shiro’s neck. 

“Yes,” he said, a promise, and Shiro felt like flying. 

 

-

 

As soon as they got home Shiro tugged at Keith’s wrist, leading him into the bedroom, the childlike, excited smile on his face mirrored on Keith’s. Keith hopped backwards onto the bed and Shiro hoisted himself up onto it, pressing Keith down for a deep kiss. The motions were familiar like the back of his hand, but he was giddy with happiness in a wholly new way. He kissed Keith like he knew nothing else, ran his hands through Keith’s newly cut hair, thumbed across Keith’s jawline. All the kisses, all the touches, in the world couldn’t be enough. He was starved for it.

“Shiro,” Keith sighed into his mouth, and he knew Keith felt the same. “Shiro… Shiro.” He couldn’t stop saying Shiro’s name, arms wrapped loosely around the back of Shiro’s neck, trailing down his back, touching his chest, everywhere. 

“Keith,” Shiro hummed against Keith’s mouth, giving his lips a gentle nip. Keith breathed a laugh into Shiro’s half-open mouth, and Shiro’s whole body felt light, their shared oxygen keeping him buoyant. He was desperate, yes, but they had all the time in the world to fill their hunger. Undressing was slow, unhurried, punctuated by long pauses he took simply to caress the curves of Keith’s back, and in turn Keith ran his hands over the planes of Shiro’s body, pressing soft kisses wherever he could reach. 

“I missed you,” he murmured into Keith’s shoulder, pressing a feather-light kiss to the scar there. The way Keith’s back arched pliantly, the delicate little noise he made, was as much of a thrill as it had always been. 

“I missed you too.” Keith looked at him, a violet-coloured galaxy in his eyes, and Shiro found himself utterly lost in them. It seemed he had acquired a doctoral degree in Astrophysics only to make cheesy romance-novel comparisons between Keith’s eyes and the universe. He smiled to himself.

Keith poked his nose lightly, smiling. “What are you thinking about?” 

“You have beautiful eyes,” he said simply, and the smattering of pink across Keith’s cheeks only made him smile wider. “Everything about you is beautiful. I can’t say it enough.” He held Keith’s hips, rubbing light circles with his thumbs, slowly inching along the juncture between hip and thigh. Keith’s hips lifted as if it were the natural thing to do. “Your body’s honest,” Shiro went on, unable to stop the flood of praise now that the gates had opened. “You’re honest. You feel everything so deeply. I love that about you.”

“You talk  _ so much _ ,” said Keith, face red. 

“Is that all you have to say about me?” 

“I quit my job.”

Shiro paused, caught off guard. The look on Keith’s face was completely vulnerable. 

“I didn’t like it and I didn’t hate it.” He let out a breath. “I liked having sex, it was the only thing I was good at. The attitude problems that got me kicked out of school, fired from my other jobs— those became my selling point. They liked the idea of putting me in my place. I liked the idea of having food on the table.”

Heartbreak was not an emotion. It was a physical, vicelike pain.

“It’s not like everybody treated me like dirt,” said Keith. “There were good clients. Reliable regulars, big tippers. It was just the way it was. I didn’t have a reason to change. I didn’t think I deserved it. Until you. When you look at me— it makes me want to be the person you deserve.”

Shiro curved his hands around the sides of Keith’s face, as gently as he possibly could. He pressed their foreheads together. “And that,” he said, “is exactly how I feel every time I look at you.”

Keith blinked rapidly, chest rising and falling. “Can we have sex now,” he said shakily. “Before I start crying and get snot everywhere.”

Shiro kissed him, long and deep, pouring into it everything his heart was feeling. He pressed their crotches together, grinding them together with fluid rolls of his hips, slow strokes of his hand. Keith put his hand around them both, not even coming close to circling around the whole way. Shifting gradually against the sheets, gasping into Shiro’s lips.

He could come like this, Shiro realized, with every one of his senses heightened by the weight of what had bloomed between them. Keith’s hips were stuttering faster than before, too, precum sliding down from the tip of his cock, through the gaps between their fingers. Shiro pulled his hand off, and licked up each and every drop, relishing Keith’s ensuing moan. He fumbled for the lube in his drawer and found it, coating his fingers generously and pressing one inside of Keith’s hole. Shiro took his time, building up the pleasure for Keith, who kept craning his neck up and seeking kisses, like now that he had all these feelings he didn’t know what to do with them. 

When Keith was finally ready Shiro pushed himself in and stilled, for a moment, feeling like he might overflow with the sensation and the emotion. Even as he continued to thrust he didn’t stop kissing Keith, on the lips, just under his ear, on his collarbone, his scar.

“You’re mine,” said Shiro, wrapping his mind delightfully around the concept. “All mine.”

“I’m yours,” Keith gasped, fingers gripping Shiro’s back. “ _ Shiro, _ you feel so good, so—”

“I love you,” Shiro panted into the crook of Keith’s neck. “I love you, Keith.” 

Keith moaned and shuddered in his arms. “I— I love you too—  _ Takashi—”  _

Shiro came just like that, a wave of pleasure cresting through him. He rode out his orgasm inside Keith, whose breathless moans grew increasingly high-pitched, and a whispered  _ I love you _ into his shoulder was all it took to push him over the edge. 

Cleaning up was hardly a priority in the face of cuddling, which was suddenly a necessity. Shiro couldn’t remove his arms from around Keith if he wanted to. Burying his face in Keith’s hair, rubbing his nose against Keith’s cheek. 

“I’m dating a koala,” said Keith with a laugh.

“We’re dating,” said Shiro, just to hear it out loud because he couldn’t quite believe it.

Keith pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Yeah.” Then he dipped a finger playfully into the curve of Shiro’s collarbone. “By the way, is this gonna be a thing now? You coming instantly as soon as I say your name.”

Shiro’s face grew hot. “It is not a thing.”

“Oh, I think it is,  _ Takashi._” 

Shiro actually shuddered. He groaned and buried his face in Keith’s shoulder. Keith’s frame shook with laughter. 

“You’re the worst.”

“Too bad.” He could hear the grin in Keith’s voice. “You’re stuck with me.”

Shiro lifted his head and bumped his nose against Keith’s, beaming when Keith’s cheeks began to flush with colour. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind Keith’s ear.

“I know,” he said softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed the ride!! 
> 
> While the main storyline is complete, I have a few more ideas so I'll most likely post a couple of epilogues sometime soon. I'm also planning a fic focusing on Hunk and Lance's relationship, so stay tuned!
> 
> In the meantime please feel free to leave feedback - comments always make my day. Seriously, anything is good, even just one word. I will eat it all up. You can also find me eternally crying over Sheith on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/redbeantofu) and [Tumblr](http://redbeantofu.tumblr.com). If you want to support my writing, please do check out the link in my Tumblr bio - it would be so much appreciated. <3


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